A Bitter Pill to Swallow
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: After falling for Beatrice's 'North Wind and the Sun' strategy, Battler begins to lose the will to fight. Beatrice can't allow this- so she throws a new piece onto the gameboard, forcing Battler to continue. :Beato/Battler, crossover with Franken Fran:
1. A

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow  
**Chapter One

_'A'_

* * *

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive, Milady."

"This isn't one of your jokes?"

"I would never dream of lying about such an important subject," said Ronove- though the faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips.

"Hmn." Beatrice frowned, folding her arms. She let her head fall back against her chair, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. Piercing white stared back. She sighed softly; a horribly earnest, candid sound. It was worlds apart from her usual psychotic laughter. "I didn't expect him to be so upset about it. What a pain. How useless."

"May I remind you, Milady, that Battler isn't like you. He's only human. I thought that was common sense- however, you can be _incredibly _dense when it comes to other people's feelings."

"Y-you're overstepping the mark there, Ronove. Remember- you're only my butler. You exist to serve me tea, not lecture me like I'm an unruly child."

"Forgive me, Milady," said Ronove- though his smile didn't fade. He certainly didn't sound too apologetic. "I did not mean to put Virgilia out of a job."

"…Heh." Beatrice gave a small laugh. "Yes, that old woman does like to nag at me. But, please, Ronove, I couldn't _bear _it if you joined in, too. With you _and _Virgilia, it'd make me feel like a young girl living with her parents. I might end up killing you both accidentally~ Hmn~"

"I'll try to remember that next time, Milady."

"So, what were you saying about Battler?" Beatrice asked, tilting her head quizzically. "And try not to insult your oh-so-gracious lady this time, okay?"

"Certainly, Milady," Ronove bowed his head again. "Well, where to begin? …Hmn. Watching his family being murdered over and over again, with no way to physically stop it, must be upsetting- surely. However, I believe the finishing blow to Battler during the last game was your 'North Wind and the Sun' scheme. He had a brief glimmer of hope you'd reformed, and become slightly more… more…" Ronove paused, searching for the right word. "Ladylike?"

"Watch it, Ronove," Beatrice hissed.

"Pu ku ku~ 'Less like yourself', should I say, then?"

Beatrice's lower lip jutted out slightly; however, she nodded.

"Well. Battler hoped he'd gained an ally- or maybe he had hoped your vicious game was coming to a close. But that brief glimmer of hope was crushed in an instant. Even a demon like myself can sympathise with his feelings. And if he never recovered from your attack, I wouldn't be surprised."

"...Tch." Beatrice frowned. Then, her fingers tightened into fists. In a flurry of long skirts and golden curls, she pushed herself to her feet. "I-I don't understand! They're only pieces on a game board! You wouldn't feel bad sacrificing a pawn or two in chess- what's the problem?"

"They might be little more than pieces to you, Milady, but I presume Battler sees it rather differently. Pawns or not, they are still his family."

"Humph!" Beatrice made a noise of disgust and folded her arms, turning her back on Ronove. "What a troublesome child Ushiromiya Battler is."

"With all due respect, Milady, if you truly intend to end this game and force Battler to acknowledge your existance, now would be the perfect time. When I went to see him he was almost catatonic- staring straight ahead, not doing or saying anything. It would be easy to defeat him now."

Beatrice didn't even pause to think about it.

"No."

"Pu ku ku~ You're such a confusing person, Milady; you claim you wish to defeat him, yet you don't take any steps to ensure your victory. Why... it's almost as if you feel... _remorse _for what you've done. Surely not?"

Beatrice- the feared and much respected Golden Witch- didn't have an answer for that. Even so, her cheeks began to flush, ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips twitched into a small frown. At that moment, she didn't look so fearsome; instead, she looked like a young girl whose homemade chocolate had been forcefully handed back to her by her crush on Valentine's Day.

"Ah. The one thing that remains constant throughout history is the complexity of a woman's feelings. It seems even Milady is prone to sickness of the heart."

Beatrice did turn around at this, scowling. Her eyes burned with intensity.

If Beatrice _had_ been a young girl whose homemade chocolate hadn't been accepted, she wouldn't have run off in tears. She would have stood her ground. More like, she would had pushed that chocolate into her crush's hands anyway- or maybe she would have tried to force it past their resisting lips.

And if that hadn't worked, she would have given them poison instead.

Beatrice was too prideful to give up.

"_Ronove_. What did I tell you?"

Still smiling, Ronove dipped his head in a bow, and said smoothly, "I apologise if I offended you, Milady. It was not my intention. I was merely commenting on the situation, as an objective third party observer."

Beatrice continued to scowl.

Then... her dark expression lightened, just slightly.

"Well, it can't be helped," she said, walking over to her chair. "No matter what happens, I can always rely on you to be your usual, ill-mannered self."

"I believe I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Milady- you are too kind."

"I know. So kind it breaks my heart~ Fufufu~ Other witches wouldn't put up with your behaviour, you know. I only allow it because it doesn't bore me."

With a small laugh, Beatrice sunk back down into her chair. As she did so, a cup of tea materialised in her hands. Beatrice had not asked for the tea- however, the look on her face had been so pitiable Ronove felt she needed it. Her grandiose words couldn't hide the fact she was upset.

Giving Ronove a small nod of thanks and a barely-there smile, Beatrice took a sip of her tea.

Then, she began to speak.

"It would be no fun hitting Battler with the final blow when he's so close to collapse already. If I'm going to break him down, I want to do it when he's feeling his most confident- tear his hopes out from underneath him and shatter him until not an atom of his pride remains! Only then would that be a true, 100% perfect victory! I won't accept anything less! Seeing a strong, arrogant man being reduced to _nothing_ with a single stake of red truth is a thing of beauty! But seeing a weak man being hurt more than necessary is a miserable sight... And not particularly entertaining... If he _wants _me to kill him, I won't give him the satisfaction. I'll only kill him… if he fights seriously. To the death. With everything he has."

"...Of course." Ronove smiled. Somehow, there was more warmth in it than before.

No matter how Beatrice's words sounded, this- whether she realised it or not- was a confession.

It was a confession most girls would be shy about making. They would have written their feelings in their neatest calligraphy on a piece of paper and put in somebody's shoe locker; but they would never have said it aloud.

_'I care about you.'_

"You don't think Battler will want to give up our game?" Beatrice asked Ronove. Worry crept into the corners of her voice. "It would be so anti-climatic for it to end this way!"

"That, I cannot say. You should ask Battler yourself."

Beatrice's mouth was half-open, and she was just about to say something, when a cloud of golden butterflies swarmed the room. After glowing for an instant, they merged together and took the form of a young girl.

"Milady! Milady!" squealed Beelzebub, inclining her head towards Beatrice. Her pigtails bounced as she did so. "I went to see Battler just now- and big sis Luci said he was sad about something, and I shouldn't bother him, but I did anyway, because Luci's not the boss of me, I mean, she's not even _that _amazing- and he was so weird! He was staring off into space, and he looked all _miserable_, and I thought seeing me would cheer him up because I'm so cute, but just... he didn't do anything... He didn't even tell me to go away. It was so totally weird and boring!"

Beatrice bit her lower lip slightly at this news. If she'd retained any second doubts that this was an elaborate joke by Ronove, they were gone now. Beelzebub wouldn't lie to her; Beatrice doubted she had the mental capacity to tell a half-decent, believable lie.

"That... That..." Beatrice struggled to find the right words. "He... He can't just give in. I won't allow it!"

"You always were a selfish child."

In a flickering of golden butterflies, the form of Virgilia appeared on the chair opposite Beatrice. Her hands were folded demurely in her lap, and her eyes were half-lidded, sleepy, as usual- but there was a strange intensity about her words. Virgilia normally acted sweet and- despite being a witch- harmless; but there was a reason she had previously held the title of 'Beatrice'. That much was evident behind her tone of voice.

"Teacher. It's nice to see you," said Beatrice, smirking. "It seems we have quite the ensemble here now."

"We're still missing the main character, though, aren't we?"

"True." Beatrice frowned. "But we can have a mature conversation without him, teacher! Fufufu. Would you care for some tea?"

"Beato. You should know I didn't come here for an impromptu tea party."

"Tea parties with witches are always the best kind."

"But there is no love in this atmosphere," said Virgilia levelly. "We can all see your real feelings beyond that smirk, child. We know you too well- and care about you too much."

"...Hmph. Have it your way. When did you become so boring, teacher?"

Scowling, Beatrice she turned her head, and took a defiant sip of tea.

"Beato."

"What?" Beatrice asked, glaring at Virgilia. "What do you want, _teacher_?"

"I have some vague inkling of what your plan is- and I must advise you against it. I, like Ronove and Beezlebub, went to talk to Battler, and I can only confirm what they said. He is very upset. Nothing at all like the energetic, over-enthusiastic person I spoke to during the earlier game. It was... upsetting. He was almost like a corpse."

"Ngh..." Beatrice winced, as though a needle had been driven through her skin. Virgilia's words had hit a weak point. However, she forced her expression into an uncaring one. "I-I fail to see how that concerns me."

"You foolish child," said Virgilia calmly. "If you want to defeat Ushiromiya Battler, do it now. I implore you. He has already suffered enough- do you mean to prolong his misery and force him into another a game, just to entertain yourself? You believe that will make you feel less guilty? Sometimes it's kinder to put a person out of their misery."

Beatrice's fingers clenched around her teacup, so tightly her knuckles went whiter than the porcelain. Her hands trembled.

"_No_."

"I agreed to help you earlier, believing it would bring an end to this cruel game. I didn't realise you could be so... Well." Virgilia laughed softly, without humor. "I thought you respected- no... _cared_- about Battler more than that. If he was an opponent worthy of your time, then he is also worthy of a gentle death. At this point, he can't muster the energy to deny your existence; you've almost won."

"Almost isn't enough! It isn't... Teacher, you don't understand!" Beatrice snapped. "It's because he's a worthy opponent that I _refuse _to let him to be defeated so easily!"

"So you'll prolong this torture. Is that right? Is that he deserves?"

"It's not like that. That's not what I want!"

"It's what you'll do."

"With all due regards, _teacher_," Beatrice spat the word viciously, as a coralsnake spewed venom, "you no longer hold any power over me! I'm not entitled to listen to your opinion anymore; I'm stronger than you. So don't try to tell the rules of my own game!"

"...How tragic." Virgilia sighed. "Even though your magical powers are stronger than mine, I see you are still little more than a petulant child."

"Remember who you're talking to! I am the Golden Witch, Beatrice- who are _you_? You don't even have a name anymore, teacher!"

"I may not have a name. But at least I have a heart."

"Y-you..."

"You can continue your game if you want. You can play with Ushiromiya Battler- the man you claim to care about so much- until he falls apart and can't even argue back anymore. Take him apart. Break his heart. Do what you will. But I will no longer have a role in it."

"Fine then! Leave! Go on- I don't need your help anymore! You're a piece that's already been removed from this game board! Nothing more! So I won't make the mistake of turning to you for advice again!"

"Certainly."

And Virgilia vanished, in a spray of golden butterflies.

"T-that irritating old woman..." Beatrice growled, leaning back in her chair. She placed a finger against her temple, massaging, as though she had a headache. Then, she grit her teeth together, scowling. "I'm not a child! I know what I'm doing!"

"I understand your feelings on the matter, Milady."

"A-ah..." Beatrice turned to fix Ronove with a thankful look. "You'll still... stand by me? Even if you disagree with what I'm doing?"

"Until the end, Milady."

"A-and I'll stand by you, too!" said Beezlebub, saluting; it seemed very much like she didn't want to be left out of the conversation. "And all my sisters, I'm sure of it!"

Beatrice's eyes widened at this sign of support.

It was Beatrice's unguarded, innocent expressions that made her seem so very human. She was not just a cruel witch. She was a person with feelings, too. She still had a heart.

And her emotions really _did_ show up so brilliantly on her face.

Ronove had to wonder how much of her 'North Wind and the Sun' strategy had been a lie, and how much had been true.

"Thank you. I... appreciate it..."

"We're just doing our duty, Milady."

"Yes! It's what we're expected to do~ Hehehe~"

"O-of course." Beatrice's cheeks flushed light pink slightly. She took another sip of tea, draining her cup; it was probably so she could hide her face, until she'd schooled her expression into some more fitting for the Golden Witch Beatrice.

The cup exploded into golden butterflies. At the same time, Beatrice got to her feet, throwing her arms akimbo in an overly-theatrical gesture.

She grinned- a grin that could freeze the blood in the veins. It looked like she had too many teeth, and her eyes were narrowed into piercing blue slits, and her shoulders were shaking. A sight like that would have been enough to drive even hellish, nightmare-born monsters back into the dark lairs they crawled out of.

Beatrice's pipe appeared in her fingers, and she gripped it tightly. Then, she tilted her head to one side, and grinned with her mouthful of sharp, serrated teeth.

"Alright! I realise the next move in this game will be a gamble, but doesn't that make it more fun? I'll ensure Battler can't surrender- I'll make sure he won't! I won't allow him to! He'll stay around and entertain me until I'm sick of him! Ihihihihihi!"

Then, grinning sheepishly, Beatrice turned to look at Beezlebub and Ronove.

"How was that? Do I sound like my usual self?"

"As you would say, _'it's perfect'_, Milady."

"Yeah! It was enough to scare even me! Pretty awesome, you know? You go, Beato!"

"Right. Well then. Let's hope this works."

Beatrice turned, skirts billowing about her, and twisted her pipe round in her hand. Then, she mumbled something under her breath; some kind of incantation. She tapped her pipe in the air three times.

And, almost instantaneously, another cloud of butterflies filled the room.

* * *

Battler was slumped on the table underneath the arbour. It was the same place George had proposed to Shannon.

And the same place Virgilia had told him about the 'cat box' theory.

…That was when Battler thought he had an ally.

Now, he realised he was foolish to trust anyone.

Everybody in the witches' game was his enemy.

Even his own family members.

The rose garden surrounding the arbour was breath-taking; rows upon rows of beautiful flowers, ranging from blood-red to salmon pink, so pretty it could make the eyes widen and heart stop beating. No wonder George chose this place to propose; it had exactly the right ambiance.

At least, it _did_, when everything had been in full color.

Now, everything was grey.

Lifeless.

Cold.

Such a beautiful place didn't deserve to be ruined by Beatrice's destructive magic.

Battler scowled- but there was nobody there to see him, and he didn't really have the energy to keep doing it. What the point, anyway? It was useless- all of it useless. So, after a few seconds, his expression of anger faded into some more apathetic. He sighed.

How foolish had he been, to _truly _believe Beatrice had reformed? Wasn't there an aphorism that went with that? A leopard could never change its something-or-other?

George would have known. He knew all sorts of useless information.

But Battler couldn't ask George now, as he had done so many times in the past when he was in a pinch. Because George was dead. How had he died in that universe- the third game- though?

Battler could hardly remember.

That was probably the worst thing.

_It doesn't matter how many games I play with Beato. They're always going to end the same way; and I'm __always__ going to be confused. In the dark. Watching my family die over and over again._

_And Beato will watch it with me, drinking tea, laughing , with that horrible expression on her face._

_...I thought maybe she felt guilty._

_But I was wrong._

_She doesn't have a heart._

_And she'll keep this game going over and over until one of us goes insane. Then again- maybe she already __is__._

_So I'm the only one with something left to lose._

_...My pride._

_And happiness._

_And sanity._

_And my _family.

_...What does it matter if a witch did it or not?_

_All that matters is the final outcome; and, in all cases, it'll be __this__._

Battler felt his eyes begin to sting. He closed them tightly, shaking his head. Without realising it, he began to run his fingers through his hair, trying to keep his head together- or maybe trying to pull it apart.

Trying to escape this 'game' which wasn't a game, in any sense of the word. Rather, it was torture. An endless torture created by a woman he didn't even believe in; but did it matter if she existed or not, when all the emotions running through his mind and clenching at his heart were 100% real?

If the culprit was a human, he would have felt exactly the same.

Battler's mind shifted through the scenarios. The answer was horribly clear.

X = The human is a culprit.

Y = A witch is the culprit.

But if the final result was the same for both scenarios then- if there was truly no way to save his family, or save his own happiness- in the long run:

X=Y.

They were exactly the same.

So what was the point in denying one possibility? What was the point in arguing for the other? It was meaningless.

In that case:

X=0

Y=0

X+Y=0

Battler tried to blink back tears.

Then, he wondered why he was bothering.

Shuddering, his breaths coming out in gasps, he banged his head against the table top.

And again.

"D-damnit... Damn... T-this is... such a waste of time... No good… I-it's no good at all!"

"I couldn't agree more."

Battler's head jerked upwards at the sound of this new voice. His eyes widened. Mouth fell open.

"What's the matter? Did I surprise you? I'm sorry; I seem to get that a lot, even in my own world. I should have been more considerate. Hehe~"

"Y-you… W-who…?"

Battler could barely spit out the words. It felt like his throat had swelled up.

A young girl was sat across from him. She looked about the same age as Jessica- although there was something very childish about her. She had long blonde hair, yellow eyes, and a rather pretty face.

But that wasn't the strangest thing about her.

Her skin was...

It wasn't _right_.

It had been sewn together. Like a rag doll, or some kind of Frankenstein's monster- a failed lab experiment- suture lines ran across both her cheeks, ending at the corners of her lips. More stitches ran across her forehead, neck, collarbone, hands and fingers. To make matters worse, two bolts seemed to be fixed into either side of her skull- maybe to keep her all together?

And she was sat there, smiling, as though she'd been there the whole time.

As though she was perfectly normal.

As though she wasn't a complete monster.

"Let me introduce myself," the monster smiled, proffering her sewn-up hand so Battler could shake it. "My name is Madaraki Fran, and I serve as Ushiromiya Eva's personal physician some twelve years in the future. It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

**a/n: **Huh. This was one of those ideas that came to me, that just wouldn't go out of my head, so I decided to write it down, even if it's a bit... weirrdd. Yeah. A crossover between Umineko and Franken Fran? XD That's just... bizarre.  
But I thought, as there are so many odd characters in the Uminekoverse anyway, Fran might actually be right at home there XD  
You don't actually need to have any knowledge of the manga Franken Fan to read this fic, I think- the only aspect of the Fran manga I've taken is her character herself. Oh, and a few of Fran's assistants. But you don't need the 'story' in the manga or anything.  
I'd recommend you reading it, though, because it's a very good manga XD If you like body horror and the like XD

Um, yeah, about this fic.  
It's Beato/Battler, but that's not the main focus of the fic.  
It'll get pretty dark and horrible and gruesome.  
Battler will be abused a whole bunch.  
And Fran will play a pretty large part in it.

**renahhchen xoxox**


	2. Bitter

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow**

Chapter Two

'Bitter'

* * *

Battler didn't take Fran's hand. He didn't do anything at all, save from sitting there, completely frozen. His mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't make any sound come out. Forming words was like trying to force rocks through a sieve; they simply wouldn't get past his lips. Occasionally, a broken syllable managed to escape, but they were few and far between. The sound was distorted, as if it were being played from a chewed-up cassette tape.

Finally, Battler's mouth managed to clumsily form words;

"H-how…?"

"Oh dear." Fran sighed, placing her fist under her chin as she thought. "I thought all deus ex machina 'savior'-type characters _had_ to have dramatic entrances- I presumed it was a staple of all stories- but maybe my entrance was a _little_ too dramatic? Hehehe. Sorryyy.."

Fran's words finally managed to knock some sense back into Battler. The dust and cotton wool that had settled in his brain were cleared away; he could think again!

But the only thing Battler could focus on was Fran's odd choice of vocabulary.

"'Savior'…?"

Had she _really _said that?

"That's right!" Fran exclaimed, smiling. "I'm going to help you!"

"A-ah…" Battler's voice faltered.

He stared at Fran- really _stared _at her.

Her image did not change, nor it become more appealing. No matter how hard Battler blinked, trying to force this stitched-together patchwork of a pretty girl back into the body of a normal human being, nothing happened. It didn't work. The sutures remained visible, criss-crossing her skin in black lines; in fact, the longer Battler stared, the more stitches he found.

She was cute, yes, with silky hair and large eyes and a smile like sunflowers.

But that didn't change the fact she looked like a monster.

And she _certainly _didn't look like a 'savior'- far from it.

"Don't look so surprised," said Fran, still smiling. "I want to help you. Is that so impossible to believe?"

_Honestly? Yes._

"…I decided I wouldn't trust you people anymore," said Battler, after a pause. "You guys, all of you… You're all liars. And I don't care if you're a witch, a demon, or the princess of the universe- I'm not interested."

"Huh?" Fran blinked slowly. Then, she gave a small start of surprise, and began to wave her hands. "Oh no, you're laboring under a misapprehension! Please don't group me amongst your usual crowd- I'm not a 'magical' entity at all- far from it! I'm being serious!"

"What are you, then?" Battler narrowed his eyes. Then, in one fluid motion, he reached forth across the table-top, and stabbed a finger in Fran's face. "And _don't _say you're my 'savior' again, because I'm sick of people lying to me."

Fran did not blink, even though Battler's finger was inches away from her eye. Instead, she began to laugh- though it was a soft, refined type of laughter one would never expect from Beatrice. Battler had almost forgotten how it sounded when a _normal _girl laughed…

Not that Fran looked normal.

"I already told you who I am, silly," said Fran, tapping Battler upside the head gently with her fist. "I'm Ushiromiya Eva's personal physician from the year 1998, Madaraki Fran. I was created by Professor Madaraki- ah, he's a truly wonderful man~ Hehe~" At the mention of her 'professor', a faint blush spread across Fran's patchwork cheeks. "But he's been missing for a while, so I manage his laboratory for him. I'm chiefly a researcher, but many treat me as a doctor- and I suppose that is an accurate description. And I'm here to help you. Did I miss anything out? Hmn…" Fran frowned, tapping a finger against her lower lip. Then, she beamed. "Nope! I think that's everything! Any questions?"

Following that information dump, Battler let his mouth fall open. His arm dropped to the table, landing with a dull thunk.

How did she _expect _him to reply after all that?

_Come on, Battler, _he scorned himself in his head. _You really shouldn't be bothered by this stuff by now. This 'game' of Beato's is pretty much a free-for-all for any weird, inexplicable monsters that want to join in and make your life hell._

_Is this any less believable than Beato's claim she's a witch- or the golden butterflies- or the goat-headed butlers- or that Halloween 'feast', when my family's stomachs were cut open and filled with candy?_

_I'd say it's all about the same._

_And that makes Madaraki Fran another impossibility that, somehow, _is _a possibility because of Beato._

"So you're a... doctor from the future?"

"That's not entirely accurate, but if you wish to see that way, I won't stop you!"

"Ah..." Battler sighed, running his fingers through his hair in irritation. Then, he let his head fall to the tabletop again. "So we're mixing the science fiction genre with fantasy and mystery now?"

"I suppose so. Hehehe~ I'm sorry if it's confusing."

"Urgh." Battler gave a small groan of defeat. "There's too much stuff going on right now- I can't keep track of it all."

There was a pause.

"Come to think of it, wasn't there that 'romance' plot line going on a little while ago with Beato…?"

But, at the mere memory of Beatrice's cruel and unusual strategy in the third game, Battler winced. An image of Beato's gently smiling face, with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, came to mind- only to be cut down and decimated by the image of Beatrice Battler knew so well.

The arrogant, laughing, emotionally incapacitated monster.

He'd been a fool to think she could ever change.

"D-damnit… Damn…"

"Don't worry," said Fran consolingly, patting Battler on the head. The knowledge that her hands were sewn together, bearing more suture marks than a half-dead patient in a hospital bed who'd just had three major operations, did little to soothe Battler's nerves.

"So you're another creature Beato wants me to deny, right? Is that it?"

"Hmn?" Fran frowned slightly, prodding her cheek with her ring finger as she thought. "Why would you want to deny me? That's kind of rude. I'm right here, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Battler said, shaking his head. He sighed. "No good. It's no good at all."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I've heard that line before. You people... you're all so keen to prove you exist. It doesn't matter if you're fantasy or science fiction, really; you're all the same. Delusions. Or... something."

"I'm not a delusion. Look."

And, with that, Fran took hold of Battler's hand, and guided it towards her cheek. Battler flinched instinctively at the contact, as Fran made him pinch her cheek.

Her skin was cold.

Corpse-like.

"Completely real!~" Fran said cheerfully. "I won't disappear. I'm not a hallucination. I'm just- oops! O-oh dear!"

Giving a yelp of surprise, Battler jerked backwards from Fran, pulling his arm out of her grip. As he had been poking at her skin, some of her stitches had begun to rupture and- like something from a horror movie- the skin on her cheek had begun to peel away. It hung, in a fold, off her face, still connected by a few stitches that hadn't broken. It looked like some horrible parasite feeding off her head. The hole it left behind was about as big as Battler's fist, and through it he could see a dark cavity, revealing part of her lower jaw, that moved as she parted her lips.

"Oh dear," said Fran, giggling, rubbing the back of her in a sheepish manner. She looked slightly flustered, but not traumatized- it was almost as if her skin _wasn't _coming off her skull like an orange peel. If one had heard her voice, and not seen the accompanying image, they would have assumed she'd forgotten to hand her in homework, or overslept; something normal, dull and banal- but certainly not that. "This can happen from time to time. I didn't mean to startle you! Please excuse me- it's a little embarrassing! Hehe~"

"E-embarrassing... H-ha... That's not the word _I'd _use."

Freaky, more like.

Incredibly so.

Battler sat there, watching, as Fran turned her back to him and her fingers went to her face. With another small apology and a laugh, a minute or so passed. Then, Fran turned about, a wide smile on her face. A new line of stitches ran across her face.

She'd just _sewn her face together_.

And then _smiled _as if it was _nothing_.

Battler stared at her with a mixture of intrigue and horror. Despite Fran's sunny nature and bright smiles, Battler got the feeling he'd be better off running, very fast, in the opposite direction.

There was something _not right _about Fran- but it was far more subtle than Beatrice's cruel, psychotic nature. It wasn't just Fran's patchwork skin that made her so disconcerting; it was something about the way she spoke, her childish face, and her sweet smiles...

"Anyway, I'm going to help you, Ushiromiya Battler. So you don't have to worry about anything, alright? Just let Fran handle it!"

"I don't know about that..."

"Aww, c'mon! Don't be a stick in the mud- usually, people are clamoring for me to help them. It's weird when people _don't _want my help."

"Well, I'm happy to be an exception to the rule."

"Hehe~ You're funny," said Fran, smiling. "But I'm not joking. I honestly, from the bottom of my heart, want to lend you a helping hand. No strings attached. At least, no more than usual..."

Battler's resolve was beginning to wear down. He wanted to remain cool and aloof, desperately so- it may have been instrumental for his survival. But Fran's puppy dog eyes were devastating, despite the ravaged mess that was her face, and she spoke so sweetly it was hard not to trust her.

Battler was... almost entranced by her. A moth to a flame. Despite her stitched-up skin- or maybe _because_ of it- she had a strange kind of charisma.

But moths got burnt when they were too near open fire, and Battler was sure his previous instinct to run was the correct one. He'd been around enough dangerous people to know a troublesome girl when he saw one, and everything about Fran shouted at him to keep away.

"You say that, but I don't think Beato will-"

Fran's eyes lit up. "No? That's funny. She was the one who called me here, you know."

"...That only makes me trust you even less."

"You don't trust me?" Fran looked a little sad at this news. She frowned. "But Beato seemed like a pretty nice person. She was worried about you, you know?"

"I can't imagine Beato being worried about anyone- least of all me," said Battler, voice deadpan. "I thought she'd be throwing some party to honor her victory, with colorful streamers and balloons and cake. That's the sort of person she is."

"Oh no, not a bit of it!" Fran shook her head, her expression earnest. Completely truthful. "She was very worried. She seemed remorseful for her actions- and I should know. I'm pretty good at spotting emotions in human beings now; I've done extensive research on it~ Heehee~ And that made me even more determined to help, you see! I hate doomed romances- I exist to make the impossible possible! Like a Cupid of love! I-I'll do anything within my powers to help you and Beato be happy!"

"This isn't a romance. You've got the wrong genre."

_Though I don't blame you; I'm a little confused about it myself. There are so many to choose from at this point, I don't know what to label this myself._

"Don't be so mean!" Fran scolded, pouting. She puffed out her cheeks like a blowfish, and folded her arms. "Love is in everything, right?"

Battler paused. A phrase ran through his mind- one he had heard again and again;

_Without love, it cannot be seen._

"Come on," said Fran gently, taking hold of Battler's hand. "Let's go and talk to Beato, yes? At the very least, I want to sit and have some tea before I begin any strenuous operations."

"Operations?"

"Doing reconstructive work on so many people- was it seventeen? Eighteen? But Miss Eva is still alive- is quite hard work, even for a busy bee like me!~ Haha!~ So I wouldn't mind relaxing for a few seconds before I begin."

Battler stared at Fran.

_Operations?_

Surely she didn't mean she could _fix _his family? Eva was the only one who survived in the third game- the others were already dead. You couldn't bring the dead back to life; it was impossible.

_But that didn't stop the laser-beam duels between Kanon and the goats, or the creation of Eva-Beatrice, or that 'death by cake' scenario- or even half of the crazy stuff that goes on._

_Whether something's impossible or not doesn't seem to matter._

"E-eh? B-but-"

But what?

Battler didn't know what to say.

But, as Battler struggled to find the correct words, his body had already begun to dissolve into golden butterflies.

* * *

Some three seconds later, Battler found himself sat in that white, circular room he and Beato usually sat to play their 'game'. He winced at how bright it was (why was _white _so popular for demons and witches? Surely black would have been more fitting), and blinked- but white fuzzy spots remained when he closed his eyes.

"Tch." Battler made a small noise of irritation. No matter how often he phased into the 'metaworld', as he liked to call it (it wasn't like it had an official name; Battler thought he might as well try to make it sound cool, like something from a shounen manga), the interior decoration always threw him off a little.

Battler had to wonder who'd designed the 'metaworld', anyway. If he ever found out, he'd like to hit them over the head, for all the pain they'd caused his eyes.

The Golden Witch herself, Beatrice, the bane of Battler's life, was sat opposite him, with a cup of tea in her hands. A small smile spread across her lips at the sight of her opponent- or at least, Battler thought it did. Maybe he was just seeing things. Beatrice _never _looked that sincere or serene without good reason (i.e. unless it was part of an elaborate plan to murder him), and anyway, after he'd blinked away the white spots her face was set in its usual expression of scornful amusement. No longer did she look like a lovelorn shoujou manga heroine; instead, she looked like the type of child who set ants on fire with a magnifying glass for fun.

"Ah, Fran. I see you managed to bring Battler with you after all. I'm grateful- _this _troublesome person here was being rather pessimistic about it," said Beatrice, jabbing a finger in Ronove's general direction. She frowned. "He's so annoying sometimes."

"I apologize, Milady," said Ronove, inclining his head towards Beatrice. "I was merely telling the truth. I thought you valued that above all else? Pu ku ku~"

"Alright, alright, don't try to get smart with me," Beatrice snapped. "Maybe a goat-headed butler would be an improvement over you... It wouldn't talk back to me like that... Hmn." Beatrice began to cackle. "That's not such a bad idea."

"Oooh! Goat-headed butlers? That sounds interesting! After some experimentation, I could... hmn... And they'd intimidate any intruders... Ah, that's a good idea..."

Battler turned his head at the sound of this voice, to see Fran sat beside him. Her first was under her chin again, a thoughtful expression on her face, as though she was trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

Battler could help but start at the sight of her. Set against a backdrop of pure white, Fran's appearance looked even more startling than it had done in the arbor. There was nothing to distract him from the eerie paleness of her skin, or the stark contrast of her black stitches; she looked more like an evil creature from a gothic novel than ever.

But certainly not a savior.

Then again, wasn't it wrong to judge a book by its cover?

But if the cover said something like 'I'm an inhuman monster who wants to wreak destruction on all mankind, and I'll do with with a smi~iile on my face', as Fran's countenance said, then wasn't it only natural be wary?

_And _she'd been summoned by Beatrice.

That alone made her pretty untrustworthy. Even if she'd had the body of a normal girl, Battler would have been wary to call her an 'ally'.

"Miss Madaraki," said Ronove, cutting through Battler's internal monologue. "Would you like some tea?"

"Oooh!~" Fran's eyes brightened even more at this offer, until they were practically burning; twin comets, shimmering with childlike curiosity. "Yes, thank you! But you don't have to call me 'Miss Madaraki'- Fran is fine."

"Well then, I hope you enjoy yourself, Miss Fran."

At these words, a cup materialized in Fran's fingers. Battler watched as Fran made a small "ooh" of surprise, that reminded him strongly of Maria. Then, with a smile, Fran began to drink.

"It tastes good~ Although, 'magic' isn't necessary to produce such a good quality taste."

"Of course not," Ronove agreed. "I suppose... a lot of love went into it as well. Pu ku ku~"

"Ah yes! And love is perhaps stronger than any magic!" Fran agreed enthusiastically. "I don't use 'magic' to cure people, even if others can't understand my methods so they make up and propagate such baseless lies. It's a little sad, really, to undermine my skills like that. Hehehe. But if you have 'love', it's possible to perform a feat that seems like a miracle. At least, that's what I believe."

Battler blinked at Fran slowly. What was all this talk of 'love', and why was she throwing the word about so carelessly?

_I guess she's one of those people who loves a good sentimental story. Come to think of it, isn't Jessica a little like that? I remember, ages ago, I found her reading that romance novel with a silly smile on her face- even though she denied it, and hit me over the head with it._

"Hold on a sec here," said Battler, raising a hand. He glared at Beatrice. "What game is this you're starting now? Why is she here?" He pointed at Fran. "I'm sick of this. This is probably some weird method to undermine me even more when I've already lost, right? So just get it over and done with."

"Pu ku ku~ You say you've 'already lost', but you're acting a lot more energetic already," said Ronove, smiling- or was it a smirk? Battler could never tell.

"Shut up," Battler reiterated Beatrice's previous words, stabbing a finger at Ronove. "This is between me and Beato! So. Beatrice! What's going on?"

Even Beatrice recoiled a little at Battler's serious tone- and she was the woman who had skewered Rosa with a fence through the mouth. She'd watched Maria- a _young girl_- being crushed by a cake, drowned in a sea of jell-o, and fed to a spider. And she'd laughed the whole time, as though she were watching a slapstick comedy routine. And that same woman had _flinched _at something _Battler _did.

Battler wasn't sure whether he should be proud of this accomplishment, or slightly disturbed by himself.

In the end he decided it didn't matter too much, considering Beato's reaction was probably a lie.

"A-ah... U-um..." Beatrice stammered slightly. Her face looked strangely blank, as though all her knowledge of the human language had left her head, leaving her with only two syllables to choose between- 'ah' and 'um'.

At the sound of Ronove's laughter- which he was attempting to subdue, but not doing a very good job of it- Beatrice's cheeks flushed a light pink.

"It's of no real importance what I do and why!" Beatrice finally said. "Don't get cocky, Ushiromiya _**Bahh**_~ttler! I don't need to explain my motives to you. If anything, I should be asking you to get down on bended knee and kiss my shoes, whilst weeping with happiness that I even deign to talk to you at all!"

"Well, it's not like I _want _to be here," Battler retorted. He hoped his words sounded cruel and cutting; however, they sounded childish, even to his own ears. He winced.

"B-battler-"

"Please, don't fight!"

Fran's voice made both Beatrice and Battler pause- Beatrice's mouth was actually left hanging open, mid-word.

"You have to be more considerate when it comes to a woman's feelings, Battler, you dummy," said Fran, waving her finger in the air as she made a point. "Beato probably got flustered when you asked her that, so you shouldn't be so direct. That's not the way to a girl's heart! If the data I've collected on human beings is accurate- and I see no reason why it shouldn't be- if you want to have a pleasant conversation, you should be polite. Remember your manners. Okay?"

"N-no..." Battler frowned. "I think you've got it a little mixed up here. You see-"

"I made an error with my judgment? I don't mean to sound arrogant, but the likelihood of that happening is quite slim."

"You do sound arrogant, though."

"I'm sorry?" Fran pouted slightly. "I _am _a doctor- you can trust me, right?"

"You also look like something dragged up from the bowels of hell, so forgive me if I'm not all that willing to blindly agree with whatever you say."

"I guess you're a pretty cynical human being~" said Fran, giggling to herself. "Then again, so are most people, until they see the results of my operations. I know you don't believe in magic, Battler- I heard about your 'game' with Beato (and I don't really understand it, but do your best!)- but maybe I could make you believe in miracles? The miracles of modern science!~"

Battler sighed. His head met his palm with a dull 'thunk', and he had to bite back the urge to mutter 'useless, it's useless'. He got the feeling he was over-using that stock phrase lately; but how could he help himself, when everything around him was so completely ridiculous and nonsensical it made his brain cry?

"You... really _are _enthusiastic, aren't you?" he asked Fran, fatigued.

"Oh yes~ Definitely." And, whilst Battler couldn't see he, he was sure- 100% convinced- that Fran was nodding.

"Ah. What a pain." Battler removed his hand from his face, letting his head fall against the back of his chair. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking. "I don't want to go along with your plan. Really- I don't. I don't trust you," he said, directing his words at Beatrice, even though he wasn't looking at her- it was some small form of defiance. "But if I'd feel bad saying no now- it'd crush Fran's dreams, or something. She's such a kid."

Somehow, Madaraki Fran- despite the vague sense of dread she inspired in Battler- reminded him of Maria (In fact, no; the sense of dread made her even _more_ like Maria). Just as Maria was always cheerfully spouting nonsense about witches and magic and going to the Golden Land, Fran was equally enthusiastic about her surgical skills; and whilst they weren't the same things, not at all, both girls had a very childlike, innocent quality about them. Even though Battler didn't believe in witches, he would always humor Maria, because he knew he'd feel like an asshole if he came clean and said 'actually, no, you're delusional.' And was the same kind of thing with Fran.

_Damn it. I wish all these demons and witches weren't all cute little girls- with the exceptions of Ronove and the goat butlers, of course. Then, I wouldn't feel so bad about 'hurting their feelings'._

"Alright. I'll compromise," said Battler, shooting a look at Beatrice that was so pointed it was a wonder she wasn't impaled by it.

"Oh? A compromise? What is it, Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler?" Beatrice asked, leaning forwards, a wolfish grin twisting her lips. It made Battler feel like a sheep- and then, he was reminded of that book of puzzles Maria carried around with her. Beatrice and the rest of her demons were wolves. Battler was a sheep- but was Fran? Either way, he was outnumbered.

The haughty look on Beatrice's face suited her far more than her hurt, girlish expressions, however. At least it didn't make Battler's insides tremble, like those downcast eyes and gently flushed cheeks did. It was much, much easier to hate Beatrice when she was being a bitch; when she was being nice and fairly reasonable, it was difficult knowing what to do.

"Right. You tell me exactly what the Bride of Frankenstein-" he gestured towards Fran, who continued to smile sleepily, "-is doing here, and I'll... go along with your plan. Whatever it is. If you don't, then the deal's off. I won't cooperate."

"A-ah... Well..." Beatrice frowned. "I suppose that's fair."

"Yep." Battler leant his elbow on the armrest, propping his head up with his hand. "It is."

Beatrice looked about the room for a few moments, as though embarrassed. Finally, she spoke, in a tumble of words, "I hated seeing you so despondent; it was pathetic. You're meant to be my opponent- you don't have a right to give in so easily! A victory won't mean anything to me unless I've really ground you down into the dirt! So I thought... Maybe, just maybe, I'd throw you a bone. So I brought Fran here, knowing she could heal your family members- even after death. She's a very skilled doctor. And I thought maybe, if this game was given a reasonably happy ending, then you'd be more inclined to face off against in the fourth game. That's all. B-but it's not because I want to cheer you up, or anything- I just won't let you give in! I'm going to keep torturing you in the next game, and-"

"Oh, wow," said Battler, voice deadpan, as he rolled his eyes. "You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself. You're into some pretty weird stuff, Beato- 'torturing me', indeed. Ha. Ihihihi..."

"Don't get the wrong idea, Battler!"

"It's fine, it's fine," Battler reassured her, a rather wicked grin now spreading across his lips. "I understood what you were saying perfectly."

It was probably the closest thing to a confession from a girl Battler had ever received. 'I don't want you to give up- I want you to stay here, so I'll do anything within my power to keep you by my side.' That might not have been what Beatrice was intending to say, but it was how Battler chose to interpret it- and, truth be told, it was making him feel slightly better.

Just a _little._

Maybe...

Battler was reluctant to think this, even in his own head, but Beatrice wasn't... all _that_ bad. Not when her was face light pink, her eyes slightly too wide, looking like a stunned girl in love. Of course, the 'tsun' that complimented her 'dere' was just as extreme; whilst being 'tsun' she was about as warm and loving as a cactus, with the personality of a serial killer. But sometimes she could be... alright. Bearable, even.

Battler just had to remember, at the back of his mind, shy schoolgirl Beatrice wasn't the norm; there was a horrible person lurking behind those glassy blue eyes, just waiting for him to let his guard down.

But that just made the game more interesting.

"Just one thing, though," said Battler, snapping his fingers. "Fran." He pointed towards the smiling 'doctor'. "If you introduce her to the game board, Beato, I won't have to try and explain her existence too, will I?"

"No." Beatrice shook her head. "Fran will be introduced to the game board after the two days the game takes place, so her presence won't have any real impact on our game, or on the murders that took place before it. But, just to be sure- _Madaraki Fran did not commit any murders in any of games, and neither will she in the future. Madaraki Fran is not the culprit. Madaraki Fran's appearance does not impact on anything in the game._" As Beatrice spoke, a red tint spread across the too-white room, text flying about Beatrice lazily, as she confirmed it as the 'truth'.

Battler was used to that sight by now, and his mind was searching for any loopholes in Beatrice's truth. Fran, however, was looking about in awe, her lips pursed in a small 'o' of surprise.

"...Alright, then," said Battler, after he was satisfied with Beatrice's truth. "That should be alright. I suppose I can play along- for now."

"Wonderful! Simply, wonderful, Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler! I look forward to resuming the fourth game with you. Gyahahaha!"

"Ah, me too- I guess, at this point, life would be boring without you making my life miserable," said Battler, with the smallest hint of a smile.

"I'm happy, too," said Fran, smiling with a simple-minded joy at being able to help. "I'm glad everybody resolved all their problems! Hehe~ And I'm honored I can lend a helping hand. I can't condone the murder of helpless people- especially not if the victims had lovers, and family members who cared about them, and... O-oh dear..." Fran sniffled softly, wiping her eyes with her arms, as though to stem tears. Battler thought she was acting- however, as he looked more closely, he swore her eyes were shining slightly.

"It will be alright, Miss Fran," said Ronove. "I'm sure you'll do your best."

"Yes!" Fran nodded, her tears all but gone. They were replaced with a determined expression; she looked like a soldier preparing to go out into No Man's land, her eyes blazing with determination. "I will. Normally, I'd charge an astronomical amount for such a large-scale operation, but I suppose I could make an exception... This is, after all, an extraordinary case."

"Are you ready to start then, Fran?" Battler asked.

Fran nodded, her teacup dissolving into golden butterflies.

Then, she tilted her head to one side, and grinned.

"Let's begin the operation."

* * *

**a/n: **writing this chapter was somewhat of a struggle. It felt like I wasn't writing it with enough 'love', if that makes sense XD I don't think my mind frame was set properly to writing when I did this. When I read through it, I was kind of disgusted with how same-y and repetitive some of my descriptions and similes were, and with the huge 'tell not show' stuff flying around. I fixed some of it, but I'm still not completely happy with this chapter... XD

**renahhchen xoxo**


	3. Truth

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow**  
Chapter Three

'Truth'

* * *

"At the ninth twilight, the witch will be revived, and none will be left alive... Hmn."

Madaraki Fran was stood before the large, imposing portrait of Beatrice in the entrance hall. Her fingers were placed under her chin. Battler was beginning to recognize what that pose meant- she was deep in thought.

After scouring every inch of the rose garden, the guest house and the main mansion, declaring- for no real reason other than her personal satisfaction as a doctor- that all the Ushiromiyas and their servants were dead, Fran came to stand before the portrait of Beatrice the Golden Witch once more. As she read through the epitaph, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed slowly, as though she'd swallowed a lemon.

Battler, Beatrice and Ronove had accompanied Fran during her extensive search of Rokkenjima- just to, Beatrice said, assure Battler everyone (excluding Eva) was actually dead. Time on the game board had frozen, as per usual when Battler and Beatrice deigned to go there. However, despite the monochrome surroundings, Battler still flinched when he saw the mangled bodies littered around the mansion.

It hurt even more when Fran said, in her cool voice, after turning Maria's corpse over with her shoe, "Asphyxiation. Time of death- approximately... thirty-three hours ago. Ahh- at least the body's still intact."

When Battler came across Kyrie, her stomach gouged and her face deathly pale, he had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from crying out. He'd witnessed his relatives dying before, sure, but it had always been from a distance. Seeing their lifeless bodies, bent at awkward angles, so close he could touch them, was another thing altogether. He was beginning to feel queasy; and Fran's constant, unyielding analysis that yes, they really _were_ dead, wasn't helping matters.

Battler squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled deeply, and forced himself to remain calm. After accepting Beatrice's 'plot twist' in this game, he didn't want- couldn't_ afford to_- break down and cry, or shout, or- even worse, _give in_. He had to remain strong. Pretend it didn't affect him; even when it _did_- horribly so.

If he hadn't been upset, he wouldn't even have been human.

Then again, Fran had surveyed the corpses- touched them, turned them over, checked for a pulse when there was obviously none to be had- with little more than a vague glimmer of interest in her eyes. She seemed stoic, uncaring- although she _was_ a doctor. She'd probably witnessed far worse injuries. That much was obvious when, following her thorough examination, she wiped her forehead with her sleeve, gave a sigh of relief, and declared, "well... All things considered, it wasn't _that_ bad. Hehe~"

"...N-not _'that_' bad?" Battler had asked, voice incredulous. He couldn't help himself- the words tore themselves out of his throat before he could cram them back in.

But... he simply couldn't believe how blasé Fran was about it. Even if she _was _a doctor, her actions were simply heartless.

In response to his question, Fran had nodded, and giggled softly.

"Yes~ If the victims were killed my 'magic', I'd have expected their deaths to be a little more fantastic. Heads split open like watermelons, innards spewed everywhere! That sort of thing. I'm disappointed. If I was a witch, I'd be a little more inventive."

And then Fran had pressed her fingertips together, tilted her head to one side, and beamed. Her smile was so refreshing, she seemed to sparkle; she could have advertised a new brand of soda in a bikini at the beach with an expression like that.

But it made Battler feel sick.

Maybe even more than the dead bodies did.

Fran gave more attention to Beatrice's epitaph then the dead bodies; and seemed more intent on checking through _that_ than the actual corpses.

"This is kind of gruesome, huh?" Fran said, after she'd finished reading. "'And none shall be left alive...' How _ghastly_."

"So... You think that's worse than the actual bodies?" Battler asked.

He had to resist the urge to take her shoulders and shake her- he didn't know if Fran's body would hold together.

And wasn't she meant to be his 'ally'?

But she was so cruel. So distant.

She'd seemed eerily like Maria to begin with- but now, surrounded by dead bodies, Battler was beginning to see a very different side of this seemingly 'sweet' girl. Her appearance was deceptive; it was like popping a candy cane into your mouth, expecting it to be saccharine, but instead discovering the flavor was more bitter than balsamic vinegar.

"Well, I see dead bodies all the time," said Fran, in a matter-of-fact voice. "But rarely are murders carried out in accordance to something like this. It's horrible, really." She frowned and folded her arms. "The person who wrote this must be _horrible_."

"I'm glad you like my riddle so much, little Fran~ Gyahahahaha!"

"Oh yes- it's very interesting. And I intend to undermine it completely. Human lives shouldn't be wasted over something so trivial- it's just heart-breaking!"

And, with that declaration, tears began to bead in the corners of Fran's eyes again. She sniffled softly, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.

"Um... there, there?" Battler said, voice stilted, as he reached forwards with unsteady hands to pat Fran on the head.

_I get the feeling she's trying to upstage me and steal my sorrow..._

_I can't believe she cares _that _much, considering she looked at all the corpses like they were slabs of meat. No, not even that- she might as well have been looking at cauliflowers, for all the interest she showed. Where are these tears coming from, all of a sudden?_

_I suppose a girl's heart really __is__ the biggest mystery to solve in this universe- and I don't think it plays fair by the Knox Decalogue._

When Fran's hands finally fell away from her face, all traces of sorrow were gone. Instead, she was smiling brightly- even more so than she had been before. It seemed her tears, coupled with her newfound happiness, had created some sort of angelic, rainbow-like expression. You'd hardly believing the sobbing Fran and the beaming one were the same person (apart from those hideous stitches, of course. Battler refused to believe there was another person in existence who looked like that).

"Ah! I'm alright!" Fran said. "I just got a little emotional there. But it's all fine now~ Hehe~"

Then, displaying the same painted smile like a matryoshka doll, Fran turned to Beatrice.

"This might sound a little strange, 'cause I'm going to undermine your magic and all so I guess that makes us rivals, buuutt..." Fran paused to draw breath, then continued. "I was wondering if you could help me out here?"

In response to Fran's request, Beatrice summoned her pipe from thin-air, and held it to her lips. Then, she tilted her head, and began to cackle.

"Oh? What's this? What help could you possibly need from me, I wonder?"

"It would be too difficult operating on these bodies the way they are. I wouldn't be able to run about quickly enough to treat all these people in separate locations- I mean, I could modify my legs in a few hours, but I don't want to waste supplies," Fran explained. As she spoke, something seemed to light up in her face. Maybe it was passion. "Couldn't you gather all the corpses- excluding Miss Eva, I'll deal with her myself- in this area here, underneath your portrait? That'd be a big, big help!"

"Under my portrait? Rea~allly?" Beatrice asked, grinning. "Why ever so? Wouldn't anywhere else do?"

"No." Fran's voice was solid, unshakable- as strong as a brick wall. "I want to perform this operation underneath your watchful eyes, Miss Golden Witch. I want to defy your epitaph and your magic in the room with the strongest presence of 'you'- if you understand." And then she tilted her head to one side, and smiled. "Will that be a problem?"

"Ahaha- of course not," Beatrice smirked. A grin split across her face like an unflattering scar- an open sore. Her mouth seemed to be filled with far too many teeth; sharp and glimmering, like shards of glass. "I like a person with a bit of spirit! If you think you have the backbone to stand against me, I'll take great delight in breaking it in two and making you a cripple. I'll gladly accept any challenge, though! Gyahahaha!"

Fran's expression did not flicker throughout Beatrice's speech. Instead, she smiled pleasantly, like a summer's day.

"Good. Now. You could move the corpses for me by magic, correct?"

"Correct."

"But I don't want you to." Suddenly, Fran's face lit up, like a Christmas tree. "Can't you use your goat butlers? They sound so cool..."

"...Cool?" Beatrice quirked a brow. "You do realize you're talking about a much esteemed witch's furniture, correct? And you have the audacity to call them 'cool'?"

"Well." Fran shrugged. "I'm sorry to offend you, but from a researcher's point of view, I can't let the chance to see a new organic life form pass me by! I'd be a failure in my profession if I did that! So..." Fran's eyes widened, and she clasped her hands at her front, blinking winsomely at Beatrice. "Please? Pleaasee?~ I'll slash the cost of this extensive surgery in half if you do that!"

"Cost?" Battler asked. "I thought you said it was free."

"Free for you, maybe," said Beatrice, idly taking a puff of her pipe. Battler frowned, as an acrid-smelling smoke began to drift from it; he'd always assumed the pipe was for show, rather than any practical use. Mainly, Beatrice used it to hit him around the head, or point at things dramatically. "But as the one who summoned her and requested her services, _I _still have to pay Miss Madaraki."

"Even though you're the 'much esteemed, highly feared Golden Witch, Beatrice the Endless?'" Battler asked, his fingers making little 'quoety' marks as he spoke Beatrice's title.

"Indeed. That is the way of the world- even for creatures like us," Ronove said. He smiled easily. "No matter where you are, Battler, money is important."

"Especially for somebody like me~" said Fran, beaming. "My services don't come cheap, y'know? I have to make a living somehow- I have so very many friends to care for- like Okita and Adorea- and then the surgeries themselves are pretty expensive... So my charges are quite reasonable, really. Hehehe~"

Beatrice seemed to ponder Fran's request for a while, before she gave another demented smile that put Battler in mind of a shark.

"Of course, of course. If you want to see my faithful furniture so much, I'll indulge you; and efficient, frightening specimens they are, too. I trust you'll be most impressed by them."

"I hope so!"

Beatrice put her pipe to her lips once more, and exhaled another cloud of foul-smelling smoke. Then, before Battler's eyes- Fran gave an appreciative 'ooh~', as though she were watching a play- the smoke began to take the form of several goat-headed men, their eyes bright red and bloodthirsty. At Beatrice's command, they inclined their heads towards her, bowing.

"Ooh, wow!" Fran exclaimed brightly, skipping round the assembled group of goat butlers like a girl in a zoo. Giggling, she placed her hands behind her back, leaning forwards, staring intently into the faces of Beatrice's third-rate, one-hit KO furniture. They were more for show really- although, there were thousands of them, so even though they had a low defense, they could easily overpower any enemy.

"Ah~ Amazing! I could make something like this quite easily," Fran murmured, prodding at one of the goat butlers experimentally. Her eyes were almost as big as dinner plates- shining with wonder. She continued to stare at the goat butlers as though they weren't horrible, hellish abominations that fed on human flesh- and Battler supposed Fran didn't know that, but she was still braver than him, to get so close to them and keep _smiling. _The more she examined them, the wider her smile grew, until it almost rivaled Beatrice's in terms of creepiness.

Fran may have been enthralled at Beatrice's failed science experiments, but Battler was disturbed by them. He could still remember them crowding around him, claws digging at his flesh, pulling him apart- the sound of limbs cracking, breaking, pain, screaming, blood splattering the floor in criss-crossing, spider web patterns...

Darkness.

Battler shuddered. He didn't even have the time to try and repress it.

On shaking legs, he took a step back.

"Well then," said Fran, after her curiosity had been sated, "shall we begin the first stage of the operation? If you would," she directed this at the attentive goat butlers, "please gather up the corpses of the various Ushiromiyas and their servants, and bring them back here.

"... ...Oh!" She exclaimed, as an afterthought- although it was a tad too late, the goat butlers already bounding off, eager to follow commands like brainless zombies, "be careful! I don't wanna replace parts 'cause you guys broke them!"

But Fran's words were lost on her servants.

"Humph." She sighed, her lower lip jutting out slightly. "They may _look _cool, but their general intelligence leaves a little to be desired, hmn?"

"D-don't insult my furniture like that, you foolish child."

"She has a point though. Pu ku ku~" Ronove grinned, his gloved fingers pressed elegantly against his lips. "Monstrous creatures may _look _impressive, but having a good brain is equally essential if they are to be truly useful."

Beatrice rounded on Ronove, her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

"Stop picking sides! It's so unfair!"

And, even though Battler's nerves were still shaken, he couldn't help but smile. Just a little.

"Alright. That's everyone present and accounted for, save Miss Eva."

Fran stood before a pile of corpses, hands folded, a small smile on her face. The corpses had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor, as a bored teenager would throw away litter on the sidewalk; their bodies had hit the ground with sickening _thumps _as the goat butlers deposited them, despite Fran's instructions to 'be careful'. Now, they lay in a heap, some limbs twisted at impossible angles, heads lolling, like dolls. They'd all stopped bleeding; most of the wounds had scabbed over, dark red. Even so, their eyes were all wide with fear (save Jessica's, who still had that bandage round her head, stained with blood), and their mouths were all open in silent screams. Maria's body, so small and fragile, was buried between Rosa's (that gaping hole in her throat made Battler flinch) and Natsuhi's, whilst Rudolf was face-forward, Kyrie spread across him. Jessica was curled up on her side in the shape of a comma, Shannon sprawled next to her- and Battler found he couldn't identify the positions of each and every person because bile had begun to rise to his throat, and he had to clap a hand to his mouth to stop himself from being physically sick.

_Horrible._

_So... horrible..._

But Battler didn't think his vocabulary was extensive enough to really describe how vile, how disgusting, how putrid the scene before him really was.

With everybody there, heaped up like dead leaves or debris in a junk yard, the true cruelty of Beatrice's game hit Battler.

All those people were dead.

It made everything seem more real. It was easy to distance himself from the murders- the murders of his family and friends- when sat in the metaworld, drinking tea and playing at being the hero. When the corpses were a little closer at hand, however- the stench of death clinging to his nostrils and hanging about the room- Battler couldn't pretend it was 'only a game'; he simply couldn't.

It was too real.

The tears beading at the corners of his eyes were real, and the sickness at the pit of his stomach was real- so did it matter, honestly, if these people were only 'pieces'? The feelings they inspired in Battler were all genuine.

Faced with the bleak truth, Battler was beginning to wonder whether Fran really could save all those people. It looked impossible.

Maybe that Beatrice's new strategy; give him false hope, and then take it away.

Battler narrowed his eyes.

If that was the case, he'd never forgive her. First, she'd toyed with his family, then his heart- and now his hope.

_Useless... Maybe this is all useless._

Battler himself- 'piece Battler', rather- was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes empty. The sight was enough to send chills down Battler's spine; it was like looking into a mirror, to find a zombie staring back at you, ashen skin and a gaping mouth. He had to turn away at that- and he didn't care if it made him look weak.

"Two Ushiromiya Battlers, huh?" Fran asked tactlessly, as she bent down on her knees. She reached forwards, jabbing piece Battler's cheek with her finger. Battler, even though his back was turned, thought he heard a squelching noise- and wondered what, exactly Fran was doing. "Do you have a twin, Battler? The resemblance is uncanny."

"Don't trouble yourself with details like that. It's just part of our game," said Beatrice.

"Hmn. It seems like a rather cruel and unusual game to me, to watch one's self die," said Fran, getting to her feet and wiping her hands on her skirt. "But oh well!" She was back to smiling. "I don't really understand these things- all I care about is saving everyone."

"A noble attitude indeed," said Ronove.

"Now!" Fran said, clapping her hands. "Almost all the preparations are necessary- save a few."

"You mean Eva?" asked Beatrice.

Fran nodded. "That, too, but there is something else. Hehe~" She giggled sheepishly (like there _wasn't_ a mountain of corpses behind her, rotting, screaming- in Battler's mind, still dying), and bumped a fist against her head gently, in a 'cute' motion. "It's a little embarrassing asking you for help all the time, but I can't operate on all these people without any supplies. If I were at my lab it'd be no problem, but I'm going to need anesthetic, iodine, nutrients, something to monitor brain activity and a heartbeat-" Fran rattled off an extensive list of things she'd need, counting them on the fingers of her hand. "Unlike 'magic', I can't miracles out of thin-air, you see?"

At the end of her lengthy list Battler's head was reeling, but Beatrice merely nodded, and said 'of course.'

With a click of her fingers, a host of golden butterflies shimmered into existence around the room, taking various forms. Battler was unfamiliar with most of the objects that phased into existence. A lot of it looked like medical equipment, but most of it was unlike anything Battler had ever seen- and, to further compound his confusion, he'd only been to the hospital a few times before.

He wondered if any of the equipment was futuristic technology. There were strangely-colored liquids in glass jars, too, and various scalpels and pointed objects used for cutting and slicing which- Battler was vaguely disturbed to note- would make perfect murder weapons.

But Fran said she wasn't going to murder anybody.

She was going to help him.

_Really...?_

"Ooh, thank you! Thank you!" Fran beamed, spinning round the room to look at all the 'gifts' Beatrice had left her. She giggled, giddy as a young girl who'd come down on Christmas day to find presents overflowing from under the tree. "There's _one _more thing though- hehe~"

"And what would that be?" Beatrice asked.

"Can you summon Adorea for me, please?~"

Battler was half-afraid to ask- but he felt he had to.

Whatever 'Adorea' was, it couldn't be worse than the corpses.

"...Adorea?"

"She's my... accomplice, I guess," Fran explained, that unfitting smile frozen on her face. "I guess you could call her _my_ furniture?- you guys like using that word. I don't wanna feel left out! Hehehe~ But, anyway, she obeys me, and I'm her 'Master', so I suppose it works. But she's also really helpful when it comes to my surgery. I'd be really grateful."

In response to Fran's request, Beatrice swept her hand in an elegant arc through the air. A cloud of butterflies appeared in a glittering, shimmering throng, before taking the form of (Battler braced himself, for whatever horrific creature served as Fran's 'right hand man'- or woman, as it were)...

A young, pale-skinned lady.

At first glance, she seemed fairly normal- especially compared to Fran. She was fairly tall (taller, even, than Battler), and wore a simple white dress the same color as her skin. She had long black hair that hung about her shoulders- a stark contrast to her papery skin.

At second, third and fourth glance, however... it was obvious there was something wrong with her.

Her whole body- even her face- was covered in bandages.

What those bandages covered, exactly, Battler didn't want to know.

"Yay!~ Adorea!~" Fran said in a sing-song voice, reaching up on her tip-toes and stretching out her arm so she could pat the taller, silent, more reserved woman on the head. As she stretched, her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth- and, obviously taking pity on her short master, Adorea bent down on one knee so Fran could better pat her head, like a cat.

"Fran," said Adorea. Her voice was muffled slightly through the heavy bandages round her mouth, but she sounded soft, refined. Ladylike. "May I ask what is happening?"

"Oh, sure, sure- my bad!~" Fran said cheerily, turning to stab her finger at the people surrounding them. "That's the 'Golden Witch', Beatrice. She's the one who brought me here. And these are the goat butlers- who are gonna make themselves scarce soon; they'll never match up to my creations, I fear~ And this human-shaped butler is Ronove, and apparently he's a demon, and this-" she turned to Battler, "-is Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler! He's got a funny hairstyle, and speaks kinda weird, too! Fufufu!~ Oh, and these are the corpses." Fran gestured behind her. "You don't need to greet them, 'cause they're dead and stuff."

Battler noticed, with a vague sense of irritation- dulled slightly by his feelings of nausea around the corpses- that Fran had taken to adding extra, unnecessary emphasis to his first name, like Beatrice did. He scowled. Was his name really _that _funny? Well, yes, he knew it was; years of being teased by other kids at school had shown him that. But it really_ did _get old. His name was a burden, a curse; he had to wonder what that old bastard had been thinking when he'd picked that name. Most likely, he'd flipped open an English dictionary, closed his eyes and picked a random word.

_Well, it could be worse._

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Adorea, inclining her head to the assembled people.

"My, your furniture is very polite," said Beatrice appraisingly, folding her arms. "Not at all like mine... Humph."

"Pu ku ku ku~ I wouldn't want to bore you, Milady."

"Ha." Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Suuure."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not trading Adorea in," said Fran, clinging to Adorea's arm, limpet-like. "She's waaay too useful! And how could a mother part with her child?"

"A mother?" Battler tilted his head to one side. Fran might have had some attachment to Adorea, but the pale-skinned, bandaged woman seemed to be far older than Fran.

"I put her together myself~"

"Ah..." And then, Battler frowned. "Wait, what?"

A rather disturbing image of Fran came to mind, cutting open the bodies of people and taking parts, stitching them together into an army of 'friends' to keep her company... Was Adorea one such experiment? Was that what Fran did when she couldn't save people- she merely 'recycled' them into something else that _could _live?

Battler was beginning to feel ill again. He didn't want Maria or Shannon or Jessica- or, hell, _anyone_- to be hacked up, limbs removed, organs cut out, and turned into 'Adorea Mark Two.'

"Alright!" Fran declared, folding her arms. "I've got everything sorted. I should be able to begin the operation. I just to find Miss Ushiromiya Eva."

"But Eva's still alive. Why would you-?" Battler began, but Fran's voice cut through his. It was more commanding than usual.

"Now, now, Battler, you'll find out soon enough," said Fran, waving a hand at him dismissively. "Me'n Adorea will go and retrieve Eva- you said she was in the basement of the hidden mansion, Kuwadorian, right?- whilst you guys can go back to your 'metaworld' place and eat cookies and sip cups of tea." Winking, Fran began to roll up her sleeves, and struck a dramatic pose that could've been lifted straight out of a superhero in a shounen manga. "I can handle the rest!"

And, as Fran declared this- the monotone, black and white coloring of the 'game board' faded away.

Time unfroze.

And a new game started.

* * *

Ushiromiya Eva, the new head of the Ushiromiya family, sat, trembling, in the basement of Kuwadorian. She'd always dreamed of succeeding Kinzo as the head, ever since she was a little girl- but she'd never assumed, in even her worst nightmares, that to obtain her father's gold and prestige she'd have to sacrifice her family.

George...

And Hideyoshi...

Trembling, her body racked with sobs and shivers that just _wouldn't stop_, Eva curled up into herself, pressing her body together as though she were trying to fold herself away into nonexistence. Even so, despite her best abilities to stop thinking (don't think about their lifeless eyes, there's no heartbeat, blood, so much blood, metal stakes and _how could you, how could you? Didn't you say you would spare my family?_) she couldn't. She'd always had a wild imagination- that was what fuelled her desire to become to head. That was what helped her solve the epitaph, find the gold.

And... kill her family...?

Eva always thought her mind was her greatest asset. Now, it was fast becoming her worst enemy. If she could, she would have clawed it out of her skull- ground it under her heel, into the dirt, to stem those horrible, _horrible_ thoughts- memories- paranoid worries, because who on earth was that little girl with the high-pitched laugh and the crazy eyes?

Was it her?

Another part of her?

Or... was she a delusion?

_I-I'm... not the culprit... right?_

She would never... George... And Hideyoshi...

Her son.

Her _husband._

But if she wasn't the killer, then why was she the only one left alive?

Eva could hardly think anymore. Her gloved fingers clawed at her hair, hoping pain would stop the tears, stop her thoughts, stop _her_- but it only drew another series of agonized sobs from her mouth, that sounded so truly pathetic she bit down on her own tongue to _shut up, shut up_. She bit down too hard, and felt blood fill up in her mouth.

Her shoulders sagged.

Pathetic.

She was the head of the great Ushiromiya family- her wildest dream had come true- but what did she have to show for it?

An island full of corpses.

She was the only survivor.

Her dreams had come true... but at what price?

The gold meant nothing- being the head of the family meant _nothing_- if she couldn't gloat about it to Rosa, Rudolf, Krauss (how she _hated_ Krauss). She'd wanted to laugh at them, jeer- but, deep down, she cared about them too. She would have split the money. She would have... She wasn't so petty and heartless she'd have deprived her own siblings- her own flesh and blood- of their rights.

...And she'd wanted to celebrate with George. With her husband.

She didn't want them all dead...

_None_ of them. Not even the servants.

H-how could she have killed anyone?

But Eva knew what they would say- if, indeed, she managed to survive. Fingers would point at her- the only survivor. Logically, she _had_ to be the killer. That was what everybody would say. They'd think she'd killed George. Hideyoshi. Krauss and Natushi and Jessica and Rudolf and Kyrie and- and- and _all of them._ Drunk on ambition, mad with power, she'd killed them all to obtain the inheritance.

But she hadn't.

Hadn't she thought before, if she did turn to murder, she would have done it skillfully? Not... Not like that. She would never have stabbed Rosa's neck with the fence, or strangled poor Maria, or... O-or...

Well.

She never would have killed anyone anyway- it was only speculation.

Or... was this punishment for that cruel speculation? Divine punishment?

The gold was cursed- Eva realized that.

The gold meant nothing, not anymore- emotionless, unfeeling lumps of gold couldn't comfort her, or cure the illness that plagued her. It couldn't bring them back. Nothing could...

"Oh, I don't know about that. I wouldn't be so hasty as to say 'nothing could'. Hehe~"

Eva's eyes widened. Her head snapped upwards. Who was it? It sounded like a young girl's voice- Maria? Or maybe that deranged, younger version of herself, who'd claimed, with a biiig smile, to have murdered Hideyoshi; murdered him and _enjoyed _it, because_ her_ dream wasn't to get married.

That girl with the cruel smile and insane laugh was another part of Eva- perhaps a more_ honest_ incarnation of her- and she only cared for herself.

But the girl who had spoken was not Maria (how could it have been? Maria was dead).

And it wasn't the younger, crueler, alter-ego of Eva, either (of course, that was an impossibility too- that girl didn't exist; _couldn't _exist outside of Eva's guilty thoughts and her own skull).

It was much, much worse.

The girl was fairly short in stature, and had very pale skin. Her eyes were wide, seemingly innocent, and she had very long, cornflower blonde hair.

And a multitude of nightmarish stitches all across her skin.

Trailing behind the bride of Frankenstein was a very tall, graceful woman, with skin so white she looked like a Yuki Onna- a snow woman- from ancient legends. Her body was bound with bandages, even her face, and her hair was black.

And then there came the goat-headed men in butler attire- six or seven of them- with mad, red eyes that glinted with bloodlust.

It was at that moment Eva became convinced she'd lost her mind.

She reached out for the rifle next to her, but her fingers were numb and clumsy from the cold- and she knew, from the frantic beating of her heart and the shaking of her body, that it was too late, anyway. She was fighting a losing battle (why did she bother to fight at all?)

In one swift, fluid motion, one of the goat-headed monsters knocked her weapon away and pinned her against the wall, fingers round her neck.

Eva didn't know why she struggled, when it was clearly pointless. These nightmarish delusions were too strong; and anyway, how could she hope to win against monsters that (surely) existed only within her own head? But Eva didn't relent. The head of Ushiromiya family would not give up without a fight!...

As the last leader, she had to remain strong.

Even when she felt like crying.

"Oh my~" said the stitched-up girl softly, walking over to Eva. She looked... a little sad, maybe. Her eyes were downcast. "Mrs- oops... Hehe." She giggled softly. "_**Miss**_, rather. Miss Ushiromiya Eva, the 'you' I knew in the future... Was rather more prideful than this. Obviously upset, yes, and maybe a little unbalanced, but... Very haughty. And strong. And admirable."

What did she mean, the 'Eva' in the future?

Eva didn't know.

She supposed it didn't matter- not when she'd already gone insane.

"Well." The strange girl sighed softly, and pulled something out of her coat pocket. It seemed to glimmer, even though the lights were turned off- which further convinced Eva this was an illusion. It was a hypodermic needle with a wicked, pointed tip. "I suppose it doesn't matter too much. You'll be reunited with your family soon enough. Make sure you thank Battler- his resolve is touching, and his love for you guys brings tears to my eyes~ Oh, it's so adorable!"

Those words really struck a chord in Eva's fear-ravaged brain. Her eyes widened, and from her cracked lips fell a mumble of, "m-my family...? George...?"

"Yep," the strange girl smiled, popping the 'p' in yep as though it were a chewing gum buble. Then, she winked. "I don't tell lies. And I'm very, _very_ good at what I do. So, Miss Ushiromiya... If you'll just relax." She held up the needle. "This'll knock you out for a few hours. Don't resist it, and it won't hurt you. It may sting a little, though..."

Eva didn't scream- not even when the needle sunk into the unprotected flesh of her wrist.

She was dying, she was sure of it.

And, as she blacked out, she was left with a rather happy thought.

She was going to see her family again.

* * *

"Phew!" Fran let out a sigh of exhaustion, as the goat butlers deposited Eva's limp body onto the floor alongside the other corpses. "What a pain."

Then, a small smile crossed her face.

"Well. At least all the fetching and carrying's done now. Ahhh!~" She sighed, arcing her body like a cat, popping the taught muscles in her back. "This island's too big- all this running around is such a paaaiinn. I'm a researcher, not a deliveryman. Woman. Whatever." She stuck out her tongue. Then, she began to fish around for the protective clothing Beatrice had so kindly left behind; she didn't want to get blood on her clothes. Fran knew Veronica would complain if she got clumsy; bloodstains were _hell_ to remove. She didn't want to get her hair dirty, either; the hair was a woman's pride and joy! She tied it up deftly, cramming it under a surgical cap.

Then, she grinned- though the grin was hidden behind her mask.

"I suppose the real operation begins now!~ Fufufu!~"

And, with a rather eerie laugh, extra hands began to sprout from her sides- far, _far _too many arms- until she looked like some kind of demented, stitched-together human spider. And every one of those extra limbs had been designed to save lives. Because when it came to surgery as complex as this, one pair of hands wasn't enough.

Fran made her way over to Eva, her extra hands moving of their own accord to pick up scalpels, thread, some of the bottles of liquid- and one of them took Adorea's arm, tugging the graceful woman along behind her.

"This shouldn't be too difficult," said Fran, pushing George over onto his back. With precision, she began to cut into his neck, watching as crimson beaded around her silver blade. "Brain activity has ceased in these bodies- but Miss Eva is alive. If I can link several corpses together, using Miss Eva's brain as a power source, it should be enough to jolt several of them back to life... I've done that before. But not on a large scale like this... I don't want Miss Eva's brain to burn out; it's one thing linking two people, but quite another when it gets into double digits. In any case, I'll have to try! Battler's relying on me!"

"I respect your enthusiasm."

"Thank you, Adorea~ Hehe~ I might need you for spare parts, so don't go away, alright?"

"As always, I'll remain by your side."

"Good!~" Fran flexed her arms. She was focusing primarily on severing George's head from his body; however, her other hands were working on the corpses of Hideyoshi and Kumasawa at the same time (Fran really wasn't too fussy who worked on, as long as the job got done). Her scalpels dug into flesh, hacking away at it like a child would carve faces in a Halloween pumpkin- but she moved with skill and dexterity, her eyes narrowed as she concentrated, turning her head to focus on the various corpses to ensure she wasn't making a mistake.

"Rosa might be a pain; the hole through her neck looks pretty nasty," Fran muttered, casting her eyes about the room. "And the old man- he's pretty badly burned. Looks like brain activity stopped a while ago. He's been dead a lot longer than the others- and fried into a crisp, too. Urghh. Ah... Hmn. But Ushiromiya Battler- it looks like, out of all the assembled corpses, he's been dead the shortest amount of time... Maybe I could... Hmn..." Fran jumped up, crossing her room excitedly, and knelt down before Battler. "I've got it!"

"Got what?"

"I won't need to hook everyone up to Eva after all- not if I can preserve a few more of these fresher bodies. Hmn." She prodded at Battler dubiously. "Looks like he's been shot in the stomach... If he's going to be a host, he needs to be perfect. Adorea, open slot thirty-three!"

"As you wish."

As per Fran's request, Adorea began to peel off the bandages that wound around her stomach. As the clean linen dropped to her feet, the flat expanse of Adorea's stomach was revealed- with a large, slivery zipper running through it. Adorea tugged on the zip, pulling it open, the serrated teeth flashing in an evil smile, as organs- 'spare parts'- were revealed, grey in color but surrounded in a viscous red liquid. One of Fran's arms reached into the hollow of Adorea's stomach, her fingers squelching around in the mess of meat and guts- and if Adorea felt pain she did not show it- as Fran slowly removed various organs, her other hands pulling up Battler's shirt and making incisions across his body.

Fran was going to do this.

She knew she could.

"Let's begin this operation."

* * *

**a.n: **And anybody familiar with Franken Fran knows how this will end (i.e. not very XD) A pretty Fran-heavy chapter here, the next one will not be so~ It's actually a chapter I'm really looking forward to writing XD  
Also, Adorea/Ronove.  
Best pairing ever XDD (I just got a weird idea XD~ oh dear o:)

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	4. That

**A ****Bitter Pill to Swallow**  
Chapter Four

'That'

* * *

Battler soon found he couldn't watch Fran. The moment the extra arms spawned from her sides, he began to feel ill- and that sickness only doubled when her fingers clasped around the nearest scalpel, and she began to trace bright red lines into George's flesh. Her spiel, too, about how 'fresh' the bodies were (Battler couldn't think of them as 'carcasses'; they were still people to him. They were still his_ family _that Fran was oh-so casually dissecting, like a kid cutting up worms in biology)- in their varying stages of rigor mortis, was stomach-turning.

So he left.

The only problem was, he wasn't sure where exactly to go. Whenever he'd felt like escaping Beatrice before- which, he realized with a start, wasn't very often (surely that didn't mean he enjoyed her company?)- he'd go to the game board. However, that would only bring him closer to the problem he was trying to avoid.

Fran.

Fran and her extra limbs and her stitched-up face and her casual, almost nonchalant, way of cutting up cadavers.

At any rate, if he did return to the game board in such circumstances, would everything freeze again? Would Fran freeze? If she was a 'piece', that seemed likely. So he couldn't do that.

As Battler exited the room in a flurry of butterflies (it was _always _butterflies. Why was it always butterflies?), his brain scrolled through a list of any potential safe places he could retreat to.

However, before he'd even begun to decide on the proper course of action, he found himself reappearing somewhere he'd never been before. It was another pure white room; so white, in fact, its image burnt itself into his skull and, like before, white spots lingered across his vision long after he'd closed his eyes.

Silently cursing (like being hit about the head or stabbed with a pointy stick, it was impossible to become accustomed to that blinding color- or non-color, as it were), Battler slowly, tentatively, cracked one of his eyelids open. Then the other.

The room was wholly unremarkable. It was virtually an empty space, with only a table and chair in the center. He'd never been there before. In fact, Battler was beginning to wonder whether the room had existed at all before he'd desired it to- and that thought made him laugh a little, and shake his head.

Useless.

It was all useless.

He was trying to deny magic, but it surrounded him; it was like trying to deny the grass was green or the sky was blue. He knew, if there were any human spectators to his and Beato's 'game', they'd think he was crazy. They'd surely raise their eyebrows, frown, and say 'how can you deny her when she's right there? How can you deny her when she's hitting you over the head with her pipe and cackling like a maniac?'

Battler sometimes had to ponder that himself- but he couldn't give in.

At any rate, the metaworld had a separate existence from the human world, with a completely different set of rules. What with all the witches and demons and magical creatures that resided there, Battler would go so far as to say it didn't _have_ any rules at all.

Battler didn't care what happened in the metaworld too much- not if it had no impact his family. His family were the most important things to him; far more important than witches or demons. And, whilst Battler had... almost grown to almost _enjoy_ Beatrice's company (it was impossible to be bored around her, after all), he couldn't forgive her for being so cruel- on the game board, at least. When she sat across from Battler, drinking tea and smiling like a normal girl, she could be almost friendly. But, underneath that, she was cruel. Vicious.

Or maybe the sweet side of Beatrice was her _real _personality- the 'real her' hidden underneath an exterior of cruelty? She had to murder people to fulfill her role in the 'game', and her role as Battler's opponent, but when she had saved Shannon in the third game the look on her face had been truly heart warming. When she'd attempted to protect Jessica, those hadn't been the actions of a cold-blooded killer. And, even whilst that 'you start with the tsun and end with the dere!' strategy had been just that- an _act_- Battler couldn't believe (couldn't bring himself to believe) there hadn't been a few grains of truth there.

And he was positive, if he looked, he'd be able to find more and more of Beatrice's softer side as time went on.

If he outright dismissed Beatrice as being a monster, would that be dismissing the truth? And wasn't this 'game' all about the truth?

_But does he truth about Beato's real personality matter when she's my opponent? If I try to sympathize with her or understand her, how will I defeat her?_

_Wouldn't it be better if I hated her?_

_Is that why she's sending Fran to help me? To confuse my feelings? To lower my guard, and then launch another 'tsundere' type attack? I can't believe Beato would use the same plan twice._

_Maybe this is..._

_Another example of her real personality, underneath those insane grins and exaggerated laughter._

_Maybe she truly wants to cheer me up._

Battler sank down into the chair and rested his head on the table. His eyelids felt heavy, as though they were weighted down by lead. His body felt weak, too- almost boneless. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until he finally sat down; until he finally ran his confused, complex, car-crash of complicated thoughts through his mind. His head felt far too small to deal with such a maelstrom of thoughts; he ran his fingers through his hair irritably, scowling at the table top.

_I miss the days when everything made sense._

_...Why can't I stop thinking about Beato?_

Battler knew he should be focusing on his family. But, for whatever reason, his thoughts were completely focused around that woman with the annoying laugh, the Golden Witch, Beatrice.

Beato.

His opponent.

_Only _his opponent?

_Haha... If her plan was to confuse me, she's doing a _really_ good job at it._

_I suppose, in the end, the 'truth' behind her personality doesn't matter._

_I'm going to destroy her anyway._

But, for whatever reason, that thought made Battler feel slightly queasy.

* * *

"Battler! Battler! Us~hi~ro~mi~ya Bahhhttlerrr!"

"H-hgh? W-what is it?"

"Wake up, lazybones! You shouldn't keep me waiting!"

"H-huh?" Battler mumbled blearily, cracking one eye open. Then, he opened the other, stared for a few seconds- and very nearly screamed.

A face was pressed up against his, so close his nose almost brushed with the nose of the other. For a few seconds after opening his eyes, the stranger's face had been a pale blur against an equally pale background; however, as everything shifted into focus, the suture lines across the person's face became more and more pronounced, until Battler half-convinced himself he hadn't truly woken up but was actually in some horrible nightmare, and this... _thing... _with a deceptively cute, girlish voice was there to drag him into the depths of hell.

Then, he remembered he was already in hell anyway, and no living creature could be more diabolical or insane than Beato.

And, shortly after that realization, he made another one.

It was only Fran.

"Did I startle you again?" Fran asked, putting her hands behind her back and moving away from Battler.

Battler let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, his fingers moving, on auto-pilot, to press against his chest. He could feel his heartbeat through the cloth of his shirt- an eerie noise he'd always found slightly creepy as a child. It was quicker than usual. He could feel all that blood pumping through his veins in a rush of adrenalin and shock. Most of it went to his cheeks, making his face burn in shame. He was half-embarrassed, half-disgusted to find himself flushing slightly.

"I-ihihi..." Battler gave a sheepish laugh, ruffling the back of his head. It wasn't like he could make his hair any messier; it always looked like a nest that had been built by a drunk, blind, one-winged, particularly stupid bird. Which had then, after its completion, fallen out of its tree and then been eaten and regurgitated by a cat. Then again, having unruly hair was 'cool'- even if Kyrie laughed and told him otherwise- so Battler didn't care much. "Y-you startled me a little, Fran. You seem to like creeping up on people."

"Not really," said Fran, giggling, prodding Battler in the forehead. "Maybe you're just easy to scare? The delicate, easily flustered type? Ahh~ So cuteee~"

Battler felt his traitorous face flush even more at that comment. Why did comments like that always hurt more coming from a cute girl than a guy? Even if said 'cute girl' was a bit of an abomination.

"Ah!~ Adorable!" Fran giggled, pinching Battler's cheeks between her fingers. "Battler is so adorable!"

Battler batted Fran's hands away, pouting slightly, as he turned to face the opposite direction. He tried to affect an air of arrogance. Beatrice did it all the time, and he'd been around her long enough to effectively copy her mannerisms.

"Me? 'Easy to scare'?" He asked. Then, he rolled his eyes. "After all I've been through? I think not." And he scoffed for good measure.

His masculine pride wouldn't allow a girl to see him being 'weak'- not even a girl like Fran! That would simply be wrong.

(It was a _little_ more than 'masculine pride' that kept him from breaking down in front of Beatrice, however. That was more for self-preservation. That woman would latch onto any sign of weakness and use it for her own gains, exploiting his misery until he was nothing more than a hollow shell.)

"Ah, well. I hope you don't have any more scares like that," said Fran, smiling, as she patted Battler on the head. "I finished my operation."

Battler's eyes widened, ever so slightly, at this, and his lips pulled into a small, almost involuntary smile. He tried hard to suppress it, but he couldn't help himself- and besides, Fran wasn't Beatrice. Fran wasn't playing some horrible mind game with him. Fran seemed, genuinely, to be trying to help. So it didn't matter if he displayed his emotions fully around her, did it?

"R-really?" he asked, the stutter creeping into his voice from shock, or hope, or fear, or all three. "H-how was it?"

And then Fran tilted her head to one side and gave a smile like pure, bottled sunshine.

Battler knew, even before she'd spoken, that the results were positive. However, he still felt stupidly light-hearted when Fran said, from that smiling, stitched-up mouth, "It was a complete success."

* * *

When Battler and Fran returned to the main hall, Fran continued to be in high spirits. She congratulated herself a couple of times, her face wreathed with smiles, giggling softly- and Battler found her cheerful attitude was almost catching. Like chicken pox or measles (Battler remembered when he gave that to Ange, and she'd spent three days sat in bed looking grumpy, and had avoided him for weeks afterwards, hitting him whenever he dared enter her line of vision), Fran's infectious grin slowly wore off on him. He knew it was wrong to hope- Beatrice had taught him that over and over again- but he couldn't help himself. Fran _wasn't_ Beatrice; despite her outward appearance, she seemed to be a sweet girl. _She_ wasn't trying to trick Battler.

_But she was brought here by Beato._

_Stop being so stupid._

_Take this more seriously._

_Would Beatrice _really_ let a game end happily for you, unless there was a catch?_

_Think what the catch could be, Ushiromiya Battler._

Battler winced. As much as he tried to ignore that stubborn part of his mind- tried to push those dark, depressing, cynical thoughts away- they wouldn't leave. And he knew, despite his small, foolish smile he was trying to crush like a cockroach, that he was right. Any moment of happiness he derived from Beatrice's 'game', that woman would eventually try to crush.

But, if Beatrice did have some sinister ultimatum (and she had sinister motives behind almost _everything_. If she'd have handed Battler a plate of cookies, Battler would've been 70% convinced they'd been poisoned and 30% convinced he was actually dreaming), it didn't show on her face. Her pretty lips weren't twisted into a cruel, sadistic smirk. She didn't look triumphant, or boastful- quite the opposite. Instead, she looked... sad. Maybe.

Like an upset girl who'd just been rejected.

And, unlike Battler's previous assessment of Beato's character, this time she'd been rejected so often she just didn't have the heart to force her affections on her poor love interest anymore.

She looked miserable- and, the worst thing was, she was obviously trying to hide it. But you couldn't fix a priceless vase by sticking duct tape on it; it would have been obvious where each and every crack was, and the sight of something so pretty being held together by something so ugly would've been pathetic. It would have been better not to bother.

Why was Beatrice bothering to hide her misery...?

Or was this another trap?

Not even Ronove looked his usual, relaxed self. There was something dark about his expression, as though he'd just witnessed somebody clawing their own throat out with their fingernails.

So why did Fran look so happy?

_Because she's not right in the head._

Battler felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

He wanted to see his family.

But as Fran's eagerly pointing finger directed him towards the scene of the Ushiromiya mansion...

He began to wish he couldn't se at all.

They weren't dead.

From all the wailing, moans of pain, tears, sobs of 'mother...' from Maria, they'd never been more horribly, painfully _alive_.

But...

(Battler felt like he was going to be sick-)

...that made it even worse.

(-but he couldn't move- couldn't tear his eyes away- like a train wreck, or a car crash. Once the blood started spurting and people started dying it was horrible,_ disgusting, _but you couldn't avert your eyes, even if your stomach churned and your heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to burst but your blood froze and you couldn't even move your fingertips. You had to keep watching- keep _staring_- even though every cell in your body screamed at you to look away and your eyes filled with tears that you couldn't control and you shook and the taste of iron filled your mouth- and it didn't stop.

It didn't stop hurting.

And you still couldn't stop looking.)

The Ushiromiyas and their servants no longer resembled themselves- no longer even looked like _people_. Oh, they still had arms and legs and the correct body parts (for the most part, anyway), and some could scream, and others couldn't- but they didn't look human.

They were things.

Surely they... weren't... his family?

Surely they weren't people, that could think and feel and know how terrible- how hideous- how _wrong_- their existence was?

(It wasn't real it was a nightmare, Beato would deny it all with her red truth but Battler just needed to close his eyes-

But he couldn't.)

Natsuhi and Eva, the pair who had bickered so much- it had been obvious they hated each other, even if they tried to hide it from the cousins (Battler still remembered how upset Jessica got when Eva's cruel tongue sliced through her mother's pride, and how George would apologize on behalf of Eva even though it meant nothing when Eva obviously meant every word she said)- would now be unable to ever argue again. But they'd never escape each other, either.

Their faces had been sewn together. Half of Natsuhi's face had been melded, permanently, with Eva's, black suture lines so similar to Fran's running through flesh, between flesh, sewing skin to skin with ugly black scars. It looked like Natsuhi's skin had been pulled taught, papery-thin, over her skull, as somebody had pulled it, stretching it against unyielding bone and skull so it could fuse with Eva's. All their limbs were still in tact, perfectly so- but Natushi's mouth had been sewn shut, and from the tremors racking Natsuhi's body and the small whimpers coming from her closed lips, Battler had wonder if...

Was she trying to bite off her own tongue?

"Oh no. That's not impossible~" said Fran cheerily. "She can't talk, so I didn't see much point in her having a tongue anyway- it's was a little impractical. And I didn't want her to bite it off and hurt herself. It's a pain putting things back together you've only just fixed. So _tedious._"

Krauss had been sewn onto Natushi's other side, his own features horribly distorted, the skin too pale, the mouth sewed shut like before- and, grouped around Eva in a small circle, were the rest of the cousins, their bodies all connected by those black sutures and their heads fused together, the skin all melted together until they were hardly distinguishable from each other- just a mess of awkward limbs and shaking bodies and torn clothing- Natsuhi's skirt had been slashed into ribbons, and Rosa's coat was missing completely; probably, Battler assumed, so Fran could work at the large hole in her neck without her outfit getting in the way.

The cousins, plus Natushi and Hideyoshi, once so proud and- Battler had to admit- a little intimidating, even to their own children, were now completely unrecognizable. Natushi was crying, and Battler was sure if she could scream she would have done- just like Eva was doing, until she choked on her own moans and the words caught in her throat and- Battler's own innards clenched- she was sick.

Battler was half afraid to look past the cousins at his own corpse- or what Fran had turned it into.

But he had to look.

He had to.

And, when he did, his knees actually gave way from beneath him.

Battler- 'piece Battler'- was lying on the floor, in a tangle of limbs- his legs tangled between Jessica's and Kanon's. Like before, Fran had turned six completely separate, individual human beings into one horrible creature with too many limbs, like a conjoined twin- triplets, quadruplets (what was the name for six? Battler didn't know- Geroge would have- but Battler was beyond caring)- or some horrible, fleshy, blood-soaked and suture-ridden spider. Jessica's skin was melded against Battler's- but she was struggling too hard, trying to pull her head away, and all of them were gasping in pain, because Jessica's mouth hadn't been sewn shut, but her eyes were still ruined and empty and sightless; all she could do was feel and hear, but she couldn't see.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Maybe it was a good thing she couldn't see small, tiny Maria's lifeless carcass deposited some three feet away from her body, severed at the waist. Maria's torso had been sewed roughly onto Jessica's whilst her bleeding middle oozed putrid red liquid, viscous fluid, bright red like strawberry jam or camellias. Bits of festering, glistening meat covered in soupy liquid spilled from the leftovers of Maria's severed carcass; a mess of intestines and kidneys and severed, sinewy muscle spilt across the floor like an impressionist painting.

One of Maria's shoes was missing.

For some reason, that stuck in Battler's mind.

Where did the other shoe go?

It was easier focusing on that than Maria's pained moans.

"Uu... M-m-mamma... Uuu..."

But she could barely speak through her tears.

Sewn against Battler on his other side were the trembling, some screaming- those whose mouths weren't sewn shut, like Natsuhi's- forms of Kyrie (it was only her upper half, too. The lower had been discarded near Maria's, leaking the same vile concoction of blood and internal organs in foul-smelling fluid; blood was slowly going black from dark red as it dried on the carpet), Kumasawa, and Kanon (who was in one piece, except for a few missing fingers and his sewn-shut mouth- his trembling fingers, some of them blood-smeared stumps, were reaching for Jessica's but he couldn't bridge the distance between them. He couldn't even say her name, although Jessica was sobbing and calling for him- calling for anyone, anyone at all; her mother? Her father? Kanon? But none could answer),

The third and final mess of conjoined corpses and missing body parts was comprised of George, Shannon, Ghoda, Genji and Nanjo. Nanjo was Nanjo in name only; only his head remained, stitched to the back of Ghoda's like a carnival mask, the mouth sewn together, whilst the rest of his body (covered in bleeding sores, deep cuts from Fran's deadly scalpels and organs oozing from wounds- desperately trying to free themselves from the cage of cut-open flesh) was deposited in a crumpled heap, like trash, or leaves fallen from trees. Shannon's body was mostly whole. Her engagement ring was still on her finger, sparkling softly- just like the tears coursing down her cheeks.

Battler stared.

Logically, he knew it only took a few moments for his eyes to sweep across the scene. But logic had no place in his world anymore. Had it ever, since Beatrice arrived and witches began to emerge from the woodwork like a plague of locusts?

It felt like Battler had been stood there for hours.

Days.

_Years._

Time didn't matter anymore.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't even move.

It was Beatrice's voice that eventually brought him back.

"You see those people...?"

But she didn't sound arrogant, or triumphant, or gloating. Her voice was soft. Filled with... compassion?

And that only made Battler feel worse.

When Beatrice next opened her mouth to speak, a red tint spread across the white surroundings, like food coloring added to water. Battler remembered how he used to impress Ange with that, years ago (but it wasn't really years), when everything had been fine and happy and _normal_. He'd drip blue or red food coloring into Ange's glass of water, and she'd stare, wide-eyed, as rainbow tendrils crept through the clear liquid, dyeing it new colors.

Ange would always stare, and point, and ask Battler, her voice amazed, 'how did you do that, big bro? How did that happen?'

And Battler would laugh, pat her head, and tell her, with a smirk, it was 'magic'.

But Ange wasn't part of his reality anymore.

The mutilated, mutated, screaming, crying, sobbing, animalistic, inhuman _creatures_ that were meant to be his _relatives_ were.

That, and the red truth.

The only truth.

The truth that Beatrice used now to deal him the final blow.

"_They are definitely alive._"

And then Battler finally moved.

He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly it almost hurt, and his stomach heaved, and the taste of metal filled his throat until he felt he was going to die- he was _sure _of it- and, his body convulsing, bitter tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, he retched once, twice, and then was sick.

* * *

"Ah, Battler!" Fran squeaked, guiding him into a chair, pushing him down- and he didn't object, didn't try to force her away, because he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but sit and shudder and gasp for air that felt rancid and stung his throat, and retch again even though he couldn't be sick _anymore, _and the worst thing was Beatrice didn't laugh or cackle because she understood.

And she pitied him.

She _pitied _him.

"Battler, are you okay?" Fran asked, her fingers going to his forehead to check for a temperature that wasn't there. "What was that violent reaction for? Maybe I should have prepared you for it earlier... But I thought you wouldn't mind."

And then Fran stuck out her tongue, smiled sheepishly, and gently bumped her fist against her head.

"Oops?~"

A rotten taste clung to the back of Battler's throat. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to stifle a cry. He ran his hands through his hair, but they were so shaky they fell back to his lap- and his tears wouldn't stop, and he wouldn't stop retching but there was nothing left to even vomit up apart from saliva that left a burning taste in the back of his mouth.

Fran's words replayed through his head, like a tape.

_'I thought you wouldn't mind.'_

_This was, after all, what you wanted._

_Beato kept her promise._

_They'll all alive._

"N-ngh..."

Battler opened his mouth- tried to form words- but he couldn't. It was impossible. Words wouldn't come. He wasn't sure whether there w_ere _any words for a situation like that. Instead of intelligent speech, what came from his mouth were more broken sobs, groans, pained noises (in the background he could still hear Maria; "M-m-mama...")

"Ah. I guess you're overwhelmed by emotions?" said Fran softly. Tenderly.

Cheerfully.

She was happy- she was far too happy. Maybe she hadn't even realized Battler was upset; she was too busy lost in her own happy world where her operation was a success and everything was fine.

She giggled.

"It was a pretty complicated operation. I mean, there were so many _people- _such a high workload. So demanding! Normally, I'd do something like that over a few days, not a few hours. Haha! It was a rough job, but I'm pretty pleased how it turned out.

"You see, it's kind of difficult to bring people back to life when the brain's been inactive for more than a few hours. Most people would call it impossible- that's why I'm always so pleased when I manage to defy the expectations of those boring non-believers! Hehe!~"

Fran giggled happily. It was a horribly out of place sound- like dance music at a funeral would've been. Couldn't Fran see the tears in Battler's eyes? Couldn't she see his body was racked with shudders that just wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he willed them to? Was Fran stupid, or was she really unable to read the situation?

But Battler was too sick- too horrified- and just too _tired _to hate her.

Rather, he was hating himself. Hating himself for being so ignorant and stupid. Of course Beatrice wouldn't give this game a happy ending. She was his enemy. So then, why was Battler so desperate to see her in a positive light, after all she'd done? Was he that foolish, or was he just a glutton for punishment?

_No more._

_I won't trust her anymore..._

"I've done some experiments like this before- pretty basic ones," Fran continued, heedless of Battler's pain. Completely unaware. Oblivious. Even though Maria's voice wailed for her mother in the background, and Jessica screamed for her parents, for Battler, for George, for Kanon- for _anyone_- and nobody could answer because they were all too busy... being alive.

And in pain.

And completely terrified.

"I was able to keep a corpse alive by merging his brain with a living person's. It worked fairly well- o-oh, but don't get the wrong idea!" Fran was hasty to rectify her previous statement- like Battler actually _cared_. "I don't just sew random people together and hope for the best, hehe~ It was a father and son. I'm sure the father was very happy to be reunited with his dead son, even if it was in an unconventional way. I grafted the son's face to the back of the father- they were, in essence, one person, but with two brains. Different personalities. When I saw the end result, I was... s-so happy." Fran sniffed softly, wiping a sleeve across her sparkling eyes. "I-I live to help people, you see? And when I see a success story like that, I get all choked up. I'm sure the father and son are very happy now! H-heh..."

Fran shook her head, pausing to dry her eyes. Her out of place smile didn't falter, however- not even for a moment.

"Ah, but anyway. It was difficult trying to replicate such an operation with so many people. It's really hard trying to sew so many people together into one fully functional being- it wouldn't really be practical! And the human body is so delicate, you see; humans are so easy to kill. I suppose I should be thankful because it means I get more work, but... it's a little sad, too..."

Fran sniffed again, but her eyes did not fill with tears, and her expression was resolute.

"I managed to merge the brains of Miss Natsuhi, Miss Rosa, Krauss, Rudolf and Hideyoshi with the brain of Miss Eva, the only living human. I didn't think it would work- so many people, drawing power from one source... I think I was cutting it pretty fine with an operation like that, but it worked! One more person would have completely overpowered Miss Eva, though- and then they would have all died." Fran pouted, sticking out her tongue. "And that would've been so depressing.

"So, in the end, I took the bodies which had been dead for the shortest periods of time with the least amount of damage- those being yours and Geroge's. I hope you don't mind I cut up your corpse like that, Battler! Ahaha! A lot of people say they'd do 'anything' to save somebody else, but they don't _really_ mean it, and sometimes they can get a little... upset... at what I do."

Fran frowned as she said this, confusion flickering across her face. It looked like she was trying to solve a complicated math puzzle with thousands of numbers.

She began to mutter under her breath; "why is that, I wonder...? Why do they got so upset? It's so foolish..."

Then, she shrugged.

"Well! I managed to kick start your brains back to life with some help from Miss Eva and some electrodes- but, in the interests of saving space, I had to do a little downsizing on George, Maria and a few others with more serious injuries to fit you all together so nicely! Maria has her own heart, but she shares most of her digestive system with Jessica... But I figured it'll be okay, because she's so little. Haha! It was a great pain!"

Fran smiled- but she looked a little sheepish, and she laughed.

"Well, I guess this science-like talk is boring for somebody like you. You only care about the end result, right, not how it was made? Well. I managed to save everyone that could be saved- so that's something to be thankful for, right?

"I tried to be considerate! Miss Natsuhi and Miss Eva got stuck together, but I know they dislike each other, so I sewed Natsuhi's mouth shut so her chatter can't irritate Eva! This way they'll be able to co-exist peacefully, yes? And I know Kanon and Jessica were close, so I put them together. And George and Shannon. I only want everybody to be happy, see? You see? I did my best, even with the limited tools I had!

"Everybody's alive... I defeated the witch's epitaph."

Fran's smile became wider, still, splitting across her face like a zip, her teeth shiny, almost metallic.

"You're happy, aren't you? You're happy I managed to help? After all..."

Fran patted Battler on the head.

"Human life is precious, and should never be wasted. If there's _any _way to save a person, you **have to **do it! That's why you wanted to fight against Beato, right? I feel exactly the same way! I'm glad we understand each other!"

Battler winced. Pain coursed through his veins, a burning inferno, scalding his insides- inflaming his senses.

_Human life is precious._

_Human life is __precious_.

Battler turned to look at the pathetic, helpless sight of tangled limbs, slashed clothes, dried blood, vomit, tears. Pain. Sewn-shut mouths ("_they'll be able to co-exist peacefully") _and severed limbs ("_Maria has her own heart, but she shares most of her digestive system with Jessica_") and Maria's agonized shouts, Natsuhi's attempts to bite off a tongue she didn't have, Eva's convulsions and shudders, Jessica's moans and pleas for her mother, Shannon's soft whimpers like a dying animal in a snare- all of it, those awful mutations, Fran saw as a '_success_'.

It was a success because they were all alive.

But...

Battler smacked Fran's hands away. He suddenly couldn't bear her touching him- couldn't stand to have her horrible, filthy hands on him. The same hands she'd used to sew together his family members- to keep them alive, to drag them back from the grave where _nothing could hurt them_, into a world where all they would know was pain and horror and a slow, agonized death, all over again, because they couldn't clothe or feed or fend for themselves.

Some would die sooner than the others, and the rotten, dying carcasses would cling to the survivors- a dead weight- and... then what? The survivors would be forced to drag lifeless bodies around behind them- if they could move at all- until they, themselves, died of pain. Or starvation. Or thirst. Or fear.

But that didn't matter.

Because human life was precious- so precious it didn't matter what quality of life they had so long as they were _alive_- and in Fran's eyes it was a success.

...Not even Beatrice was that cruel.

Beatrice only ever killed people. They felt a moment of pain- or maybe it was longer than a moment but, in the end, they'd all be dead. And then they'd never feel terror or agony or fear again.

But Fran was different.

Fran forced dead people to back to life- in a way that was so inhumane even _Beatrice_ was disgusted by it.

And Fran- happily smiling, giggling Fran, who reminded Battler so much of Maria it was uncanny- didn't realize it.

Battler didn't realize he'd spoken- didn't realize he_ could_- until Fran replied.

"No."

That was what Fran said.

But what had Battler said to warrant such a response?

What words had torn themselves out of his throat?

He didn't need to think for long about the mystery, because within nanoseconds he was saying it- _shouting it_- again, tears cutting tracks down his face that had already been made thousands of times before, his voice cracking in his dry throat like twigs underfoot on the forest floor, his fingers tightening around Fran's collar- he was more surprised than Fran by the force he used- as he slammed her small body against the wall, her blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders, and he was shouting it at her, again and again, shaking her, screaming- and he wasn't sure if he was going completely mad.

"Kill them!"

That was what he said.

"Kill them! Why don't you kill them? Do it already!"

But Fran was shaking her head- why was she shaking her head?- and she looked a little surprised, and she said, "W-why would you want to...? I-I thought... This what you-"

But Battler didn't let her finish, because he was angry (or afraid) at what she'd say.

"N-ngh... A-ah... D-d-damnit! Kill them! T-they don't... deserve this! They... deserve to die!" And then he turned to Beatrice, but his fingers were still at Fran's collar, round her throat, and his eyes were too large and he was breathing too heavily and he felt like he was going to be sick again but he was still shouting, because if he didn't he was sure he'd _collapse_.

"W-why... W-why did you force them to be alive... W-when they should have died? They'd be happier dead! I-I know you can do it! Beato! You can kill them! K-kill them... P-p-please... Beato..."

Battler was begging. He was begging, sincerely, with tears running down his face and his shoulders shaking, his legs trembling, and he didn't care.

Maria's moans still rang in his mind.

Shannon's soft gasps.

The frightened, horrified cries of Eva.

Of Jessica.

Of _himself._

And, at that moment, Ushiromiya Battler knew he would have done anything in his power to murder his own family. If Beatrice or Fran wouldn't, he'd do it himself- kill them, because that would be the kindest thing.

The _right _thing.

Maria, Jessica, Shannon, Kyrie, that old bastard- Battler would have murdered them all, with his own hands, without a moment's hesitation, until the terror was dispelled from their eyes and their bodies went limp and pooled with blood.

Because that was the only way to save them.

And Battler was sure that was the truth.

All of them...

He wished they'd all die.

* * *

**a/n: **;A; This was a kind of difficult chapter to write, even though it was the one I've been looking forward to most XD~ I don't think it was horrific enough, and my botched science is a little craptacular XD  
This chapter originally had more stuff to it, but I'll save that for the next chapter instead :3

**renahhchen xoxo**


	5. Must

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow**  
Chapter Five

'Must'

* * *

"Battler. L-let go of me..."

Battler hadn't realized he'd been holding onto Fran's shirt with so much strength. He had the small girl pressed up against a wall, his fingers gripping so tightly at her collar his knuckles were turning white.

It looked like Fran was struggling to breathe; her eyes were a little too wide, her lips were slightly parted, and her breaths were coming out in short, sharp gasps. She was making the same sounds Jessica made when her asthma flared up and she couldn't find her inhaler.

Fran's feet were actually raised a few inches from the ground as Battler held her up, her back pressed against the wall, her eyes wide as saucers.

Battler looked down at his own hands with something akin to amazement on his face.

He hadn't realized he had enough strength to do something like that. Jessica had always been able to beat him in a fight, ever since they were four years old. Battler could vaguely remember the time his four-year-old self trying to steal Jessica's favorite toy dinosaur. He'd made some stupid comment about how dinosaurs were only for men, and as a girl she should stick to playing with dolls, and Jessica's mouth had thinned into a straight line, and then she'd hit him so hard upside the head multi-colored stars burst across his vision. He'd run off crying to George, who'd sighed, and told him, in that amazingly mature way of his that always- even now- made Battler feel like a little kid, that he shouldn't pick fights with people that were stronger than him. And, thirteen years after that dinosaur incident, Jessica was _still _undeniably stronger than Battler- which was strangely ironic, given his name. Even soft-spoken, intelligent George probably would've been able to best Battler in a fistfight, being so knowledgeable about martial arts.

At any rate, Battler had learnt his lesson. He didn't try to beat up girls- because, in most cases, those girls would be able to hit him back just as hard. Even harder, in Jessica's case.

Battler wasn't a violent person.

And he'd never tried to hurt a girl after Jessica set him straight all those years ago.

But, even so, there his was- his fingers at Fran's throat, slowly asphyxiating her, cutting off her air. He could hardly believe it was him doing it- that the fingers digging into Fran's windpipe, crushing it like a plastic straw, were even his. They had to be somebody else's- because even when Maria was crying, or Jessica was teasing him, or when Beato killed off his family again and again, Battler had never tried to physically hurt them.

...That wasn't strictly true, though, was it?

He had slapped Beato across the cheek that one time. He'd been so angry at her, he'd been completely unable to control his own emotions- or his own hands.

But he'd felt bad about it afterwards.

He knew it was stupid- completely illogical- to feel like the assailant when _he_ was the victim, caught up in Beatrice's spider web of mind games and murder, but he felt bad all the same. The look on Beatrice's face after he'd done that had been just depressing.

Battler didn't feel bad about hurting Fran, though.

She barely even counted as a 'person', let alone a 'girl'. She looked sweet and innocent, wide-eyed with large smiles. Like Maria. A lot like Maria.

But she'd been so eager when she looked through the dead bodies, kicking them over with her feet, sewing thread through their skin and stitching them together into some kind of modern art sculpture made of _real people_, real flesh and blood and Battler's _family _and _friends_ and people he _knew and loved_, but Fran hadn't cared. Any other person would've; even Beato would have.

Beatrice, the Golden Witch, who could only revive once everybody had been slaughtered, had a _heart._

But Battler wasn't sure if Fran did. She only had a thirst for knowledge, and a desire to experiment- to create more monsters. It was that twisted, sick obsession that kept her blood flowing and her heart pumping. Not a heart.

She didn't have any human emotions; or, at least, the crucial ones needed to make you emphasize and understand and know when enough was _enough._

She wasn't human.

Battler didn't let go.

"Fran." His fingers were shaking badly, as though he had hypothermia, but his voice was surprisingly calm. Collected. "Fran. Kill them. They're suffering."

Fran stared at him. A brief silence passed between the pair. It was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.

Then, slowly, robotically, Fran moved her head sideways once, twice. She shook her head. And then she stopped completely, unmoving, like a wind-up doll that had run-down.

She looked... disappointed.

"Battler," said Fran softly, her voice soft and weak, as Battler's grip did not relent. "I thought... You understood. I thought we were the same..."

Her words were sincere.

And that somehow made them all the more horrible.

"The same? How are we the _same_?" Although Battler's voice had been remarkably calm up until that point, it began to crack, to quake and tremble, almost as badly as Battler's body. "I-I... I would never..."

"I thought you understood the value of human life. To keep them alive no matter what. Because it's the right thing to do. Isn't that why you're fighting against Beato?"

"I-I'm fighting against her for a good ending! This is... T-this... G-god... Damn it... Damn..."

Battler's voice became fragmented, shattered. Completely broken.

Battler remembered when he'd been playing tag with Jessica in the Ushiromiya mansion, oh, ten or eleven years ago, and George had bit his lip and told them to stop, but they didn't because they knew best (or at least, they thought they'd did), and they'd laughed at George and called him a scaredy cat (which was, at the time, an _incredibly _cutting insult). And then, to prove how amazing and brave he was, Battler had dived at Jessica- and crashed into a table. Of course, he couldn't simply had stumbled into an empty table; oh no. He had to run into the table with the priceless, ornamental vase displayed on it.

Battler had watched the vase fall almost in slow motion, and when it hit the floor it shattered into what seemed to be a million pieces. Battler had the image of that broken vase in his mind- ruined, beyond repair, and Kumasawa had to clean it up- and he was sure that was what his voice sounded like. The broken vase.

Irreparable.

His fingers were shaking too badly to support Fran, and any strength he'd once had drained from him. He dropped his hands to his side, releasing Fran from his grasp. Then, he turned his back to her, and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it with too much force without meaning to, biting down on the inside of his cheek over and over again. He was sure it was meant to hurt, but he couldn't feel anything. Instead, the inside of his mouth was numb- _everything _was numb.

"T-this... T-that..." Battler couldn't specify what, exactly, he meant by 'this' and 'that'. He couldn't say 'the corpses'; he _couldn't_ talk about the mutated creatures Fran had created. But he was sure she knew what he was referring to, anyway. She may have been insensitive, but that wasn't the same as being stupid; and obviously she was smart, if she could create such abominations and keep them _alive._

_But not for long, though._

"T-that wasn't the right thing to do! I-it's horrible! I-it's... F-fuck... _Shit_. I can't explain it!"

He didn't have the right words. And he knew it was desperately important Fran understood. She should have understood it anyway.

But, maybe was incapable of her understanding, if she couldn't already. Wasn't it pointless trying to reform somebody beyond help- a person who didn't have a heart?

It was useless.

All useless.

"Battler."

Battler felt a gentle hand fall on his shoulder. He knew it belonged to Fran.

"It may not have been the 'kind' thing to do, but it was _definitely _the right thing. The right thing and the kind thing are not always the same. But..." Fran's face was set with determination, and her eyes sparkled like stars. No; more like a whole _galaxy_. "I always do what I think is right! My whole life- my existence- is devoted to saving people! I have to save _everything_! All human life is precious! So rescuing those precious lives is _definitely _right. That's what I believe. And I thought you believed it, too."

"H-ha... Hahaha..." Battler laughed quietly, without humor. The sound was just as broken as that vase. Battler saw Beatrice flinch slightly at his soulless laughter, as though it had physically stung her. "T-that's an interesting philosophy you have there... But... I can't accept it. Because!" He turned about to face Fran once more, seizing her shoulders roughly, digging his fingertips into her skin. "Because it's cruel. You see this as an _experiment, _b-but they're my family! I-I don't want them to suffer!"

Fran's eyes remained impassive. Empty.

"You don't want them to suffer, but you insist on bringing them back into a world that will only hurt them? Isn't death the only way of ensuring pain will never inflict another living organism?" Fran tilted her head to one side, slowly. She frowned. "You humans are full of contradictions. If you didn't want to hurt them, you should have let them die."

"And what are you if you're not human?" Battler spat at her, shaking her. "A _monster_."

"No. I'm just... a scientist." Fran smiled. "And a humanitarian."

"L-like hell you are!"

"I am!" Fran insisted, her eyes too wide, her voice adapting a sort of mania that made Battler question what, exactly, was wrong with her. He had a feeling her brain hadn't been completed when her 'professor' made her; he was now positive her head was filled with fluff and paperclips to keep everything together. "I exist to help people! I'm helping people, you see? It's not my fault you human beings are too_ weird _with too many different emotions to appreciate my work! When I don't get a 'thank you' despite all the sweat, blood and tears I put into my job... I-it makes me feel a little sad, you know? It breaks my heart. I just want you to have a happy ending to a tragic story."

She fixed Battler with an upset expression, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. She looked like a girl who's boyfriend had forgotten to repay her on White Day for her homemade Valentine's Day chocolate.

"You're so mean, Battler. So cruel... You shouldn't be so mean to a girl."

Battler shuddered. Tried to resist the urge to hit her across the face- because it wouldn't solve anything.

His family would still be...

_No._

"You're not even a girl," said Battler, his voice filled with concentrated hate, so acidic it could've blistered the skin. "You're just a _creature_. You don't understand... You don't understand how precious they were to me... T-they'll die anyway, you know? How are they going to look after themselves when... W-when..."

_When they're all sewn up together._

Fran blinked at him slowly.

Then, a smile split across her face, and she laughed.

"Ooh! I didn't think about the practicalities too much! Ahahaha! I'm sorry!~" And then she stuck out her tongue. "Forgive me?"

Battler's whole body froze. He could feel the blood in his veins frosting over, jamming up the functions of his internal organs.

"W-what?" His voice was barely less than a whisper.

Fran sighed, tilting her head to one side.

"If somebody isn't caring for them twenty four seven, they'll probably die. Oops?"

Battler flinched slightly, as though he'd been hit.

They'd been dragged back to life, and now they were going to die slowly, painfully, all over again.

"Y-you... You..."

But there were no words. He couldn't accurately describe what Fran was, because he didn't know himself.

"Ihihi... Ihihi..." He began to laugh again. "Ihihi... Y-you claim you care about people, but really, you're just hurting them for your own enjoyment! You don't give a damn about 'helping people'- you were thinking of yourself when you... _operated _on them, because you like making monsters! You enjoy it. No good... A-and that's no good at all... Ihihihihi..."

"Of course I enjoy my work. I was programmed to." Fran tilted her head sideways. "I don't understand your problem. Please elaborate?"

"I-if you really cared about them, you'd kill them! Kill them all! Do it now- quickly! If you can bring a person back to life, you put them back into their graves- that's easier, isn't it?"

Fran flicked Battler in the forehead gently, giving him a relaxing smile.

"Ahh~ No no no. Here's the root of the problem rii~iight-" she pressed her finger against Battler's temple, "-_here_. It's the way you think. It's flawed. The question isn't whether _I _care about them. The real question is, how much do _you _love them?"

Fran continued to smile in that docile, sleepy way of hers, her eyes half-lidded, everything about her screaming innocence and purity. But there was something dark lurking behind that good-natured smile; and, like in the story of Pandora's Box, Battler didn't want to crack open her cheerful expression to glimpse the real person underneath, for fear of the plagues that would emerge from his curiosity.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Or, in this case, stitched his family members up together in a mess of body parts and organs and left them to die.

"W-what do you mean...?" Battler asked her slowly.

"Well." Fran giggled. "If you loved them as much as you say, shouldn't you be happy they're alive? No matter what state they're in, they're _alive_. So... be happy." Fran reached forwards, pulling Battler's lips into a grotesque parody of a smile. "Come on. Thank me. Be happy. Smile. Can't you do it? Can't you? It'd make me feel better. I don't want to think I've made you sad. That wasn't what I was aiming for at all. And I'm sure you've got a nice smile."

Battler stood there, staring down at her, for a few seconds. Then, he pushed her away. He felt unclean where her fingers had touched him; almost contaminated.

"No. It's _because _I care about them that I'm doing this! H-how can you... How do you not understand? Even _Beato _understands!"

"So you're saying it's alright to kill them?"

"They'd be better off dead," Battler spat.

"You're saying their lives mean less than yours? Than mine? Than anyone else's? So it's okay to end their suffering, because _you_ decided their lives are worthless? But they're still humans, you know? I thought you condemned Beato for killing humans. Isn't that a little hypocritical, hmnn?"

Battler recoiled slightly at this. Fran's words pierced through his resolve like a knitting needle through cloth- just like the swords of red truth Beato used to pull apart his theories. But, even though Fran's words weren't in red, Battler knew she was telling the truth- or, at least, her version of the truth.

Because she truly believed she had to save everyone.

Or maybe she had no choice.

Maybe she'd been built that way.

"You know it's morally wrong to value one life more than another's?" Fran said, prodding her finger in the air as she made a point. At that moment, she sounded a lot like a teacher. "Case example! English legal system, R vs Dudley and Stevens, 1884! A group of people managed to escape a sinking ship of a lifeboat, but they only had a few tins of food with them. They stayed adrift in sea for forty days, and the food ran out pretty quickly. They began to starve- dying slowwllyy, _painfully. _They managed to live on caught fish and sea water, but it wasn't enough. So you know what they did? You know that happened?"

As Fran spoke, she leant forwards, closer and closer to Battler, and her eyes grew wider.

Fran smiled a smile that made Battler feel sick.

"They saw that a couple of people were looking pretty sick anyway, and they thought they wouldn't survive. Their rationale was 'they'll die anyway, so their deaths might as well be put to good use. We should try to save ourselves!' So they assigned the two sickest people a side of a coin, and flipped the coin. It was completely random. And then... ... the coin landed on heads. So... Battler...

"They ate the person whose name corresponded with that side of the coin."

Battler's eyes widened, and he tried to step back- but Fran's fingers were clasped around his tie, and it was _Fran _who was controlling him now. It was Fran who was keeping _him _in place.

Battler had told her his logic.

And now she was giving him hers- whether he wanted to hear it or not.

And Battler knew he had no choice but to listen; stand still and shut his mouth and be patient, as Fran had done oh-so-nicely when he slammed her against the wall and shouted at her.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Fran asked, tilting her head to one side. "They cut through the sick person's flesh while they were still alive- it wasn't like they could defend themselves, they were so tired and weak. It must have been agony, though. The sailors, half-mad with hunger, began to slowly- no, not slowly, because they were hungry and desperate! They did it _quickly,_ gracelessly, tearing and ripping and not stopping! - pulled out his intestines. And they ate them raw. They ate them all, yes they did- and what bits they couldn't digest, they left, in a horrible, bloody mess for the seagulls to peck at.

"But it was alright, because they'd saved themselves. That person was going to die anyway... And by eating them, other lives were saved. So... they did... the right thing... Didn't they? Because the life of an ill, injured, dying person doesn't mean as much as a life that could be _saved_... And it didn't matter that the sick person was in pain when they were being eaten alive by their friends, because when they died they couldn't feel the agony of having their organs pulled out anymore... Ha... hahaha...

"But do you know what the funny part of that story is, Battler? Do you? Hmnn?"

Battler couldn't even move. He couldn't talk. His mouth hung open, but no sound came out.

Fran wasn't waiting for his reply, though. Instead, she continued, smiling brightly, as though she were telling him a bedtime story.

"Well... Only one day after they ate that ill person- they 'feasted on his internal organs', the official law report said. I know, because my professor read it to me, and he told me 'don't ever think like this, Fran' and I said 'of course not, professor!'- a boat came by and picked them up. They were saved. So..." Fran giggled softly. "If they'd waited _one_ more day, they could have saved that sick person. They could have saved everyone. So he didn't even have to die. They didn't have to eat him at all.

"Isn't that funny? Isn't it funny what human beings will do when really pushed to the limits? It's fascinating, right?

"But the sailors thought it was okay, because they were sure they'd done the right thing, and everyone would understand. They were dying, half-mad from hunger- but that sick person was closer to death than them. They were just saving themselves... So they confessed to what they did. They thought everyone would understand. They thought it was _okay _to take a human life to save themselves- and that human life didn't even _matter_, because he was going to die anyway. Hmn~" Fran frowned, prodding Battler in the forehead again, very lightly. "Does this sound like somebody you know, Battler? Does it? Does it sound familiar? Hahaha~"

Battler could barely breathe. It felt like the air had frozen up in his throat, choking him.

It wasn't the same thing.

It wasn't...

It was never right to kill anyone, but Battler didn't want to _cause _his family unnecessary suffering. He wasn't going to eat them! He was _saving_ them...

_"I'm your savior."_

And Battler realised, with a horrible start, he sounded a lot like Fran.

_O-oh God..._

"Do you know what the courts decided?" Fran asked- a rhetorical question, of course, because Battler couldn't answer and Fran was more than happy to reply.

She laughed softly.

"They didn't understand. They said it was _despicable_- **monstrous**- because it _was_. The ruling was the defence of necessity is **never **valid, under _any _circumstance. You should _never _take one life to save others- or, in your case, to 'end their suffering'- because_ all_ lives, no matter what condition they're in- no matter if they're slowly dying or in unimaginable pain or stitched together with OTHER bodies- are equal! **All lives are precious**! That's the official ruling! And anybody who disagrees is a _monster_. I can't abide- no, more like, I can't _understand_- people who would disagree with that."

Fran's eyes became hollow, empty, like two black holes poked out of her skull. Her smile transfigured into something horrible- it stretched across her face, widening, like a huge scar, more sickening and terrible than the real scars littered across her body.

"If you're trying to disagree with me... If you want to _murder _your friends and family, after I tried to hard to save them... Then that's truly _despicable. _You might as well be trying to eat them, for what you're saying. You might as well be one of those sailors who flipped that coin. How monstrous."

And, though Fran didn't say it, Battler knew what she was implying.

_"You monster."_

That was what she meant.

And that was when Battler's resolve to be calm, collected- don't do anything rash (but how can you be _calm _when everybody's slowly dying and in so much pain and it's all your fault because it's what you _wanted_ and you naively believed it would work out alright in the end- stupid, how stupid! Useless! Completely useless!)- shattered, like glass.

Like the vase.

Only this time, it broke into so many pieces it seemed impossible to put it back together.

Battler swore he could hear his blood pounding in his head- hear the blood running through his veins- and his body trembled like a leaf in the breeze and his eyes narrowed, and everything around him went red. His blood burned with anger, and his head pounded with rage.

_You monster._

But Fran, despite her claims she was a 'savior', had that wrong.

Battler reached forwards, his body moving itself with no input from his brain (his thought process had run into a complete meltdown; thousands of conflicting feelings had crashed into each other at thousands of miles an hour, leaving behind a bloody mess of confusion and pain circulating through his head).

He grabbed hold of Fran's collar once more, slamming her petite frame against the wall, and he was shouting- but he wasn't sure _what_ he was shouting- and he wasn't even sure he was forming words, or just garbled noise. He shook her roughly, and her body hung limply like a ragdoll, her head lolling, and as he continued to scream Fran's words rang through his head, over and over again, on repeat.

_You might as well be one of those sailors who flipped that coin._

_How monstrous._

_You monster._

And that only made him feel worse, because he was sure, despite her shocked appearance, Fran was laughing at him. Saying 'I was right. You humans really _are _all horrible- and I'm far better than you', in her aloof, cold, emotionless voice.

_I wish I'd never asked for help that obviously wouldn't come!_

_How could I have been so stupid to hope? Hope doesn't exist!_

_Useless! It's all useless!_

_I wish I'd never laid eyes on this __creature__ before! I wish... I-I wish..._

"Why don't you just drop dead?"

And as Battler shouted, the words wrenching themselves from his mouth painfully, tearing his throat because it hurt so much he couldn't contain the full gravity of his feelings in his head, in his actions, or in the words from his mouth, his fingers clenched round Fran's shoulders. His nails dug into her skin. He was shivering, trembling- and he barely even realized he was crying against until he felt the moisture run down his cheeks, stinging his eyes.

"O-ow! A-ah..."

As Battler shook her, half-blinded by anger and tears, Fran's nervous, pained voice managed to break through his rage.

_She doesn't have any _right_ to act scared._

_She deserves this, after what she did to my family- so coldly, so cruelly, as if it _didn't even matter, _and then tried to paint __me__ as the villain!_

_You reap what you sow, Fran!_

"And you deserve to die."

And then her screams amplified tenfold as a spray of bright red burst from her stomach, her innards seeming to explode, or _im_plode- Battler didn't know. The skin about her middle ruptured, splitting apart, and Battler was horribly reminded of Fran's story.

_They tore open his stomach while he was still alive, ripping and clawing, insane with hunger, and they held his organs up in front of his eyes for him to see and they ate them._

_They ate his innards __raw__._

_They peeled his skin off with their fingernails, because there weren't any sharp objects- they did it by hand, working frantically, pulling off flesh and muscle through sheer force of will even though their nails broke off and bled-_

_And then they ate him._

_And he was still alive._

_He... probably screamed a lot._

_But nobody heard him, and nobody came to save him._

_Isn't that funny?_

Still Battler, didn't let go of her- if anything, his grip tightened. He continued to shake Fran, shouting- and as he screamed, both aloud and in his head, for her to just _drop dead_, damnit!, there were more sickening ripping sounds, as Fran's flesh began to shift, to distort. Her hand was severed from the rest of her arm in another exploding geyser of crimson and snapping tendons, and her fingers twitched sickly, her hand hanging on by a few fibers of red, glittering flesh, before Fran gave a squeal of pain and the meager strings holding her hand to her arm were completely severed.

More red began to bloom like opening petals of flower, on Fran's shirt, around her neck- as Battler smashed her head into the wall, blood began to bubble from an open wound at her collar bone, and another sore opened up at her chest, a few more appearing round her stomach. Her shirt was partially torn open as her skin broke apart, revealing a ravaged mess of exposed, broken bone and internal organs- and how did Fran have so much blood when she was so very small?

Blood really got _everywhere._

_And you know what the really funny, ironic thing is? Do you Battler?_

_They... didn't even need to kill him at all._

_Because a boat came and saved them the very next day._

As Fran shook Battler, he heard a sickening pop. Her eye had dislodged itself from her skull, but it was still attached by a few fibers, still connected to the back of her head- but another shudder racked Fran's body, and half the side of her head seemed to collapse in on itself like a sandcastle at the beach, red running down her cheeks in a parody of tears. Her eye hit the floor with a sickening _squelch_, and Battler swore it was still looking up at him, _lazily_, almost lackadaisical- and Battler took a step back, very nearly grinding Fran's eye under the sole of his shoe.

Only half of Fran's mouth remained. There was a black, gaping hole where the other half had been, revealing her upper jaw and tongue, and some broken cartilage of her nose, but her tongue was moving and her mouth was sill opening, and she was still talking- and she was _definitely_ still alive. Blood bubbled up in her mouth, and the skin round her neck was slashed into ribbons, folds, that revealed severed muscle and snapped arteries, and she was making choking noises.

Drowning in her own blood.

But in Battler's mind, she was still renouncing him as a monster.

She was still telling him that story.

_It's never alright to value one life more than another._

_And there is __no excuse__ for murder._

Battler swore, as his fingers came up to tangle in her hair, that she was smiling at him- smiling at him through half a mouth filled with missing teeth and a tongue pierced in the middle with a large, open sore, and laughing.

"Battler!"

Battler flinched as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, trying to pull himself away from Fran- trying to shake him back into his sense. But Battler's surprise only lasted a few moments. He recognized the voice as Ronove's, and he didn't even turn around. He didn't have to. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him a small gasp of pain, and knew- somehow- he'd managed to deal a near-fatal blow to Beatrice's butler, too.

Battler had to wonder what, exactly, he'd managed to make rupture or explode.

Ronove drew back- stopped trying to restrain him- and Battler turned back to Fran, still shaking her- as though that would make his family better, as though it would make him feel less guilty about wanting them all dead (he wasn't like the sailors in Fran's story- he _wasn't_), but shaking her would get him nowhere, he knew that, and... and...

"_Battler_. Ushiromiya Battler! Stop it! Please stop it!"

And then Battler felt a stinging sensation across his cheek.

Somebody had hit him.

At once, his thoughts cleared; like sunlight bursting through fog, the pain in the side of his face brought him out of his insane rage.

He let his hands drop from Fran's collar. As he did so, the small girl fell to the floor, her knees hitting the ground, her head lolling forwards, like a marionette with cut strings. Blood soaked through her clothes, pooling about her feet. The bright red was a stark contrast to her white surroundings.

She looked so small. So helpless.

Just like Maria.

Battler turned around, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes were still filled with tears, he could taste the bile at the back of his throat, and he couldn't stop shaking- he just couldn't stop.

Beatrice stared back at him, her hand raised, head tilted. Her mouth was opening and closing, making shapes, and Battler was sure she was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. His ears were assaulted by the sounds of Fran's choked gasps from half a mouth and a ravaged throat, and the sounds of his family crying in the background- begging for mercy (_Maria wailing for a mother that couldn't answer_). But Battler didn't need to hear Beatrice voice to understand the gist of her words. Her eyes were filled with pity, and her face was pale, like a gruesome waxwork.

Battler was hit with the realization that she understood.

She knew exactly how he felt.

So why had she let Fran do it...?

If Fran's botched attempt at 'saving' his family had been part of her plan to break him, then why did she look so sad?

The stinging sensation continued to spread across Battler's cheek- short and sharp, like the sound made when a wine glass was struck with a spoon. And then Battler realized a second thing.

It had been Beatrice who slapped him.

It had been Beatrice who brought him back.

He had reduced Fran- that smiling, cheerful, oblivious girl who reminded him so much of Maria- into a mess of blood (her blood stained his fingers, it was on his clothes, and it smelt so horribly it turned Battler's stomach). He'd become so angry, so lost in his own emotion, he just... He lost control. He couldn't help himself.

He killed her?

_How monstrous._

But no- Fran wasn't dead. She was still making sounds, and as Battler watched, he saw she was moving, just slightly (her eyelids- remaining eye_lid_, rather- and fingertips were quivering) despite the large amount of flesh and muscle that had been cleaved off her small body.

She coughed once, twice, and an ooze of thick red passed between her open lips, dribbling down her china and neck.

Battler shuddered to think what he would have done if Beatrice hadn't stopped him.

If she hadn't...

Battler shuddered, shook his head.

He didn't even want to _think _about what he would have done if Beatrice hadn't stopped him.

"B-beato..." he mumbled, choking over his own words. His voice sounded too soft, too quiet, when compared to how loudly he'd been shouting at Fran. But all the energy had drained out of him. He didn't feel angry anymore. Instead, he felt tired. Exhausted. He just wanted to sleep; to pretend this had never happened.

Battler stared at Beatrice pleadingly, his eyes wide, covered in a film of unshed tears.

"Beato... Please kill them for me. I-I... can't... P-please. _Please."_

But Beatrice shook her head.

Well, Battler had been expecting that.

He wasn't surprised.

It was with a broken kind of resignation Battler let his head fall onto Beatrice's shoulder. It was too heavy for him to support anymore. He didn't care that she was his enemy, because at that moment in time she had a _heart _and she _understood _and she was human.

Not like Fran.

Fran was cold and disturbing and robotic, so surgical about everything Battler had to wonder whether she saw, not living people, but slabs of meat when she looked at the rest of humanity.

But Beatrice made sense.

Beatrice was a witch, and witches didn't exist outside of fairytales, but she made _sense_.

Now, _that _was a contradiction if ever there was one.

_Ihihi.. Ihihi..._

Battler rested her head on her shoulder and cried, and Beatrice didn't push him away. Instead, she stood there, supporting him- and though she didn't move to embrace him, or comfort him beyond just _being_, Battler didn't care. He would have been more surprised if she _had_ acted more compassionate.

But he was sure he heard Beatrice mutter something.

It sounded like an apology.

_"I'm sorry."_

But he quickly brushed that thought aside. He was hearing things.

Beato would never say that.

* * *

Battler didn't know how long he stood there, resting against Beato, crying. When Battler thought he had no more tears left to cry, he'd think of his family (what was left of them), and the tears would begin again and again, in a vicious cycle that never stopped.

But, as he stood there, trembling, he began to hear movement from behind him.

Then, he heard a voice. A young girl's voice, thick with pain, as though her mouth were filled with cotton wool.

"Let's... begin... the operation..."

Battler turned, in time to see the extra limbs emerge, spider-like, from Fran's side, tearing through the remnants of flesh that still clung to her broken bones.

And Battler stared, eyes wide in horror, as Fran began to sew herself slowly, methodically, back together.

He was sure, as her extra fingers moved and she sewed up various parts, collecting her severed hand and sewing it back to the stump of her arm, that was she was humming to herself. Humming a cheerful song through her broken mouth and missing teeth and damaged tongue, as more blood bubbled between her lips, drying atop of already dried blood in a thick, dark red crust.

Slowly, like a sculpture being built, Fran began to piece together her missing limbs, stuffing organs roughly back into the correct cavities, sewing up her split lips up until she no longer resembled the slit mouthed woman but her usual, smiling, innocent self.

Watching the surgery process was like watching a video being played backwards- Fran had fallen apart, but now all those pieces were being put back together again, as extra sutures spread across skin, and her broken fingers were forcefully snapped back into the correct place. And, as Fran worked, her face showed no sign of pain. Instead, she was smiling that same soft, gentle, sleepy smile.

The same smile she'd used when she was telling Battler that story about cannibalism.

Once Fran was finished, and she'd cut the thread for her final suture and her extra limbs had vanished, she looked the same before. Good as new. Apart from the blood staining her front, her slashed clothes, and her missing eye- an empty, gaping hole at the side of her head- she looked completely fine.

As Battler watched, his stomach turning over in horror, Fran's fingers went to her empty socket. She poked around at it for a few moments, frowning slightly, before she drew her hands away and giggled.

"Ooops~" she laughed, wiping her fingers on her skirt (which was a waste, because she only got more blood and bodily fluids on her dirty fingers- but she didn't seem to care). "It looks like I'm still missing something. Clumsy me." And she stuck out her tongue, bumped her fist against her head, and winked. She sounded perfectly casual, too, as though she was apologizing for coming to class late or leaving rice in the cooker too long. "Can you pick that up for me?"

When Battler looked down, he saw Fran's missing eye staring up at him from the floor. It seemed to be accusing him.

_Monster._

Battler's face went deathly pale.

It was Ronove (whose own wounds seemed to have healed themselves, if his easy smile was any indication) who picked up Fran's eye, dusted it off on his cuff, and then handed it back to the pieced together monstrosity with a bow of the head.

"Ah~ Thank you! You really are very useful, unlike this guy-" she pointed at Battler, "-here. To use his own words; 'useless, completely useless!' But that's men for you!~" Fran beamed, plucking it from Ronove's fingers.

Then, as though she were putting in a contact lens, she popped the eye back into the empty cavity. It rolled around, like a ball on a bagatelle board- however, after knocking her fist against her head a few times, the eye finally spun into its correct position and stayed there.

"A-aren't you... A-aren't...?" Battler stammered- but the words wouldn't come.

Fran smiled at him, and patted him on the head, like she was stroking a cat.

"I'm fine," she reassured (not that it was very reassuring. In fact, it was completely the opposite). "You tried hard, but I've suffered worse than that before. You have to be a pretty strong person to kill me. I doubt even Veronica could do it- and she's crazy-powerful. You should meet her sometime; she has this weird delusion it's okay to kill people, like you. You'd get along just great.

"Now!~" Fran chirruped, clapping her hands together. "Let's discuss my payment, shall we, Golden Witch Beatrice?"

Battler stared at Fran.

He looked back and Beatrice.

And then he knew, in those few seconds, exactly who he was more afraid of.

He couldn't help but wonder what Fran meant by 'payment'.

* * *

**a/n: **haha, this was a really fun chapter to write XD All the emotional fallout from the last chapter- and my favorite thing to write is emotional stuff XD Maybe Battler was a little OOC here (?), but I think anybody would react pretty badly to their family being mutilated like that, and then being denounced as awful person because they want to end their suffering- especially Battler, who seems to really care about his family and his cousins_ and_ the servants. And I think he can be a little hot-headed sometimes XD

R vs Dudley & Stevens is a real case. It really happened. A group of men really got stranded at sea, and became so hungry they ate another passenger on the ship to survive. Although, they didn't eat him while he was still alive. They slit his throat first- they didn't want to cause him any more pain than necessary. Fran is just being a bitch to spice up her account and creep Battler out XD It's still a really horrible case, though- you should go wiki it XD Some of the details are very, very creepy ._.

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	6. Be

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow**  
Chapter Six

'Be'

* * *

"P-payment?" Battler asked.

He didn't understand.

Of course, the word was in his vocabulary. He knew what it _meant_. Even though he wasn't as smart as George, he wasn't a complete imbecile. No person who'd spent more than a week living with Ushiromiya Kyrie could be an idiot. Kyrie didn't suffer fools gladly. Or, at all.

However, Battler didn't understand what relevance 'payment' had to their current situation. Did Fran want a _reward_ for sewing his family together? Did she want some kind of monetary payment, congratulations and a pat on the back for ruining innocent lives?

...No.

The mere thought of it made Battler wince.

"I-I thought you said you weren't going to charge me," Battler said, trying to make sense of the situation. To twist some sort of meaning from Fran's illogical words (but, really, he had to wonder why he was even bothering to force logic into a completely illogical world). "I thought you said... Seeing me... Hahaha... Ihihi... 'Happy'," he spat the word out, as though it tasted foul, "would be payment enough."

"Ah!~ And there's the first problem, you see."

Fran reached forwards and, as she had done many times before, gently flicked Battler in the forehead.

She flicked him oh-so-casually with those fingers stippled with blood.

They were the same fingers Battler had broken off her hand in rage.

The same fingers she'd used to sew his family together.

The same fingers she'd inserted into her empty eye socket, poking about as though it didn't even hurt.

Battler flinched.

He didn't want those fingers anywhere near him.

"You're not happy, are you?" Fran said softly, sadly. It sounded like she was disappointed with him. "You're not happy with what I've done. So... I didn't even get the satisfaction of seeing your smiling face."

Fran stuck out her lower lip, pouting.

"My prices might go up because of that."

Battler stared at her, his mouth falling open. "B-but you said..."

"I said I wasn't going to charge _you_," Fran interjected, her voice slicing through Battler's feeble argument like a hot knife through butter. She folded her arms. Somehow, despite her childish appearance, she commanded a great air of authority; perhaps because Battler had just seen her _sew herself back together _after sustaining would-be fatal wounds. "However, I _am _a pretty well-respected doctor. My services don't come cheaply- not even for a witch.

"I don't really care about the technical aspects to it. I don't care whether Beato is a witch or a woman with a severe psychological delusion- and, trust me, I've dealt with a loottt of people like that," said Fran, shrugging. ""I'll help out anybody if they have enough money, no matter whom or what they claim to be."

"So you can be bought out that easily?" Battler spat at her. "T-then... How could you lecture me about morals, when you'll sacrifice your beliefs for _money_?"

"Hey." Fran held up her hands, as though trying to defend herself. "It's not like that. I really want to help people, you know? I'd be more than willing to save every person I came across. But, whilst I might believe I should save _everyone_, I know, realistically, it's not possible. I'm an optimist, but not an idealist.

"Spare parts are hard to find- I can only get them from people who are already dead, or dying. Or, I have to make perfect replicas in my lab. But that costs money." Fran spread her arms akimbo, shaking her head. "To borrow your catchphrase, Battler- without money, 'it's useless. It's all useless.' I can't help anybody if I can't afford their treatment. The chemicals. The transplants. The equipment, the organs, the blood- all of it!

"So I have to pick and choose who I help carefully. It's a shame, and I wish it could be different. But medicine isn't like magic." Fran ran her fingers through her blonde hair in a distracted manner, leaving smears of red across her forehead. She didn't seem to mind. She was covered in blood; a little more didn't make a noticeable difference.

Then, Fran tilted her head to one side, like a curious bird ready to peck at hemp seeds, and smiled.

"That's why I'm little jealous of Beato. She has magic! She could save anybody she likes- or, at least, that's what I've come to understand. It's just a shame she won't. It's a shame she uses her magic to hurt people...

"And that's why I won't go easy on her! I can't forgive a horrible person like that! I'll make her see the error of her ways!"

Fran's eyes blazed with determination, like twin pyres. Battler felt a little taken aback at her determination.

She made people into monsters...

She had, effectively, dredged his family up from their graves, forced life back into them, and left them, sewn together, to rot and die all over again.

It was cruel.

It was _monstrous._

But, in her eyes, she'd done the right thing. And for Fran, doing 'the right thing' was enough. It was enough to make her happy. If Fran could 'help' others- even though her definition of 'helping' was completely different to a normal person's- then she was happy.

Fran wasn't a real person. She had been 'built'. Therefore, all her thoughts, feelings and emotions were products of somebody else. Fran's personality wasn't her own. It had been conditioned by her 'professor' until it ended up that way. Battler imagined her professor had told Fran all kinds of stories (like the one with men on the ship... They ate each other to stay alive, isn't that horrible, and they didn't _have_ to, they could have saved _everyone_. How sad. How funny!) to sour Fran's attitude towards humanity.

She had the brain of a child in the body of a teenager, and she didn't have the intelligence- or maybe she hadn't been _given_ the intelligence- to think beyond her professor's orders. All she knew was to 'save' others- even if, ultimately, it made their lives worse.

And Fran thought she was doing the right thing.

Battler could feel almost sorry for her...

Almost.

His eyes narrowed.

But that didn't excuse what she'd done. If the kindest thing to do to his family was kill them- release them from their suffering- then, surely, it would be best to terminate Fran, too.

She had to die.

Die, before she could 'save' anymore people.

"My payments are usually pretty high," Fran continued, jabbing her finger in the air as she made a point. "And since this operation took up so much time and used a lot of Adorea's resources, aandd Battler here isn't overly appreciative of my efforts, _and _he tried to kill me (which isn't new, yanno, but it still hurts and is totally no fun) I might charge more than I decided originally."

"Ha." Beatrice gave a mirthless laugh, staring down Fran with slanted eyes. "I was expecting that, Madaraki Fran."

"Of course you were. You're pretty astute, Beato!~"

"B-but... Why is Beato paying you? You... tried to 'save' _my _family. Shouldn't _I _be the one who pays you?"

The word 'save' crumbled to ash in Battler's throat; saying it nearly made him choke.

"Ooh... Well, Beato was the one who made the contract with me, so she should be the one to pay up," said Fran. She pressed a finger against her lips; it looked like she was weighing up her options. "Although... I am _very _interested in Battler, too. I act as Miss Eva Ushiromiya's doctor in a future time frame- a parallel universe- so having samples from a blood relative of her's might be helpful if I have to treat her for any surgery… And, let me tell you, she has a pretty weak constitution. She's one of those people who catches any disease out there. Haha..." Fran gave a breathy, girlish laugh, and she clapped her hands together. "That's a brilliant idea! Beato, maybe you can split your bill half and half between yourself _and_ Battler...?"

"_No."_

Beatrice's reply was so final, so cutting, that Battler felt himself flinch, as though he'd been physically cut.

He turned to look at Beatrice.

Her face was deathly pale, like a waxwork doll.

Battler had to wonder what, exactly, Fran's 'payment' entailed, if Beatrice was so opposed to splitting the bill...

Somehow, he got the feeling it didn't involve money.

But what would a doctor want apart from payment?

Supplies, maybe?

But what would those 'supplies' be?

Battler's mind gave him an unwelcome answer- one he really could have done without.

_Things that can be taken fresh and given to others who need them more._

_Eyes. Bone. Muscle._

_Organs?_

"Alright then," Fran said, sighing. She pouted. "I guess Battler's off limits. But there are still other things I could get with extra interest... Adorea!"

Fran clapped her hands together and, instantaneously, a shimmering curtain of golden butterflies appeared in the middle of the room, swirling like a geyser. After a few seconds they took a human form, revealing the tall, elegant frame of Adorea. Fran's 'assistant' was still wearing her white dress, her limbs heavily bandaged. However- and Battler wasn't sure whether he was being paranoid- it looked like, since Fran's operation on his family, she'd gotten a little... no, a _lot_ skinnier. She had been thin before, but now she looked almost anorexic. Her limbs were stick-thin, like straws, and her spindly legs didn't look strong enough to support the weight of her body.

Fran's previous words echoed through Battler's head; "_Adorea carries all my spare parts." _But she'd used some of those spare parts up operating on the Ushiromiyas, hadn't she?

And now Fran wanted to reclaim what she'd lost.

_With interest_.

Battler shuddered. He didn't want to believe his hypothesis was correct- but an awful voice in the back of his mind told him it was.

It was exactly as he thought.

"Adorea- let's begin collecting our payment!"

"Yes, Miss Fran."

Battler watched in horror as Adorea- the tall, elegant, pale woman who seemed so refined- slowly peeled the bandages off her face. The cloth fell to the floor, pooling at her feet- and Battler found he was focusing on the pile of bandages rather than Adorea's head, because he didn't want to see what was there, hidden behind the bandages...

But Beatrice's gasp forced his eyes upwards.

If the sight of Aodrea's real face was enough to make the Golden Witch Beatrice- a woman who'd cut open the stomachs of his family and mixed candy up with their intestines- gasp, then Battler knew it must have been horrible.

"...N-ngh!"

As soon as he looked, he wished he hadn't.

The sight was almost enough to make him sick again.

Adorea... didn't have a face at all.

If she hadn't removed her bandages, Battler would've assumed her face was quite pretty. Her soft speech, long black hair and lithe limbs put Battler in mind of a very beautiful Yamato Nadeshiko.

But that was not the case.

Her body _was_ beautiful, true.

Until you got to her face.

Then, everything went horribly wrong.

She didn't have a face at all- not really, in the literal sense of the word. Instead, she had a mass of writhing, almost gelatinous tentacles that emerged from her neck. They writhed around, making sick squelching noises, extending themselves forwards as though they were glad to be freed from the confines of the heavy bandaging. It looked like somebody had hacked a supermodel's head off and stuffed an excess of seaweed into the empty cavity of her neck.

Battler took a step backwards.

And another.

Another.

He'd have done _anything_ to get away from that creature, that _thing..._

It was bad enough those tentacles were writhing, seemingly _alive_, but they smelt, too, like sewage. Battler remembered he'd made Ange a sandwich once, and she didn't want it, but she hadn't told him because she didn't want to hurt his feelings. She'd stuffed the sandwich down the back of the couch and left it there, left it to rot, for two weeks, until the smell became so foul it brought tears to the eyes. That was what those tentacles of Adorea's smelt like.

Putrid.

Battler took another step backwards, and felt a sharp pain his hip. He realized, just a second too late, he'd walked into the table. He let out a cry of surprise as he fell- and he would've hit the floor, too, had Ronove not caught him.

Battler looked up, too stunned to thank the butler.

Ronove's face was paler than usual, too. His easy smile was gone.

Beatrice wasn't smiling, either.

Instead, she looked... almost scared...

"Adorea! You can go and accept our agreed payment from the Golden Witch, Beatrice, now," said Fran, clapping her hands together.

Adorea nodded, and walked over to Beatrice. Beatrice didn't move- made no effort to get away. She'd turned into an ice sculpture. Even her facial expression was frozen. Battler doubted she could have escaped, even if she'd wanted to. But Beatrice would never run- not even from an abomination like Adorea.

Beatrice was too prideful for that.

Adorea pinned Beatrice against a wall. As she did so, Battler swore the tentacles emerging from her neck were... almost pulsating.

"W-what are you doing with Beato?" Battler asked, his voice rising to an almost hysterical pitch.

In contrast, Fran just smiled calmly, and confirmed Battler's fears.

"I already said, silly. I'm collecting my payment."

"B-but..."

"Beato offered to give me money. After all, she is the 'Golden Witch'," said Fran, still beaming pleasantly. She could have been eating a picnic by the river with an expression like that- and it seemed so horribly unfitting Battler wanted to peel it off her skull. "But I declined. Money is fine from human patients, but she claimed to be a 'witch'. She showed me some _very_ enlightening magic- I let her murder me (more like, I kept pestering her until she wound! She was reluctant about it! Haha!) and, somehow, she was able to bring me to back to life. She did it without using any drugs or money or medicinal equipment. Just... magic... How perfect would that be?" Fran's eyes were shining. "To have the power to revive humans perfectly... Wouldn't that be wonderful?

"I realise 'magic' may not have a place in the human world. Maybe it can only exist amongst witches in this strange universe, separate from the planet Earth. It could be impossible to cultivate magic in the human world, for human medicine. But... I'm curious. It made me curious. I want to study this 'magic' as much as possible, to see what can be achieved!

"...And what better way to conduct that study than with 'parts' from a real witch?"

Fran's dream sounded idyllic. A peaceful world, where all humans could be revived perfectly, without flaws. It would be a world where people could live normal lives, even if they'd suffered horrible, disfiguring wounds. Even if they'd _died_. If Fran had the power of magic, Battler had no doubt she would have revived his family and friends perfectly. The only reason she did what she did was because modern medicine was too limited.

Sewing them together had been the best she could do.

But Fran wanted to do _better_ than that.

Even she realised crudely sewing people together was no good.

Beatrice could use magic, but she only ever used it to hurt people.

If Fran had it, she would have used it to save everyone.

And that was... a nice dream.

Nobody would argue that Fran's vision was desirable.

But magic didn't exist.

Magic didn't, and could _never_, exist on the human world.

And Fran was going to sacrifice Beatrice to learn something Battler had known all along.

And that was unforgivable.

Battler would _never _allow that to happen.

"W-what do you mean by parts...?"

"It's quite simple really," said Fran. "Adorea's tentacles will latch onto Beato's mouth. Then she can suck out the internal organs, king of like drinking through a straw, and store them in her own body."

"H-her organs..."

Battler stared at Fran. The mental image of Adorea pinning Beatrice in place and inhaling her lungs, heart, stomach, intestines, up through Beato's neck and into her mouth filled his mind.

And then Beato would...

Well, it'd be pretty hard trying to continue a game when your opponent had no insides left.

She'd just be... a mess.

Fran wanted to reduce the arrogant, egotistical Golden Witch into a hollow, empty shell.

And, somehow, a death like that seemed even worse... than the gruesome fates of his family.

"Don't give me that look," said Fran, shaking her head. "It's just a business transaction. Beato said it was okay."

But...

_Why?_

Why would Beatrice go to such great lengths to get Fran on her side?

Beatrice's emotions had always been incomprehensible to Battler, but this was just too much. No matter what angle he approached the problem at, he couldn't understand it at all. It made no sense.

"She's a witch, right?" said Fran. Her voice was softer than before. More sympathetic. "She revived me. I'm sure she can revive herself, too."

_Not if she's already dead._

"Alright, Adorea! We've wasted enough time with this idle chatter. Let's begin collecting my dividends!"

"N-ngh... A-ah..." The soft, frightened moans made by Beatrice were like a knife to Battler's stomach. Beatrice may have been prideful, but not even she could hide her fear.

Adorea's grip tightened on Beatrice's arms, and she lent forwards, just slightly. She was a lot taller than Beatrice- she practically towered over her.

"Don't worry," said Adorea soothingly. It was the sort of voice that could've been used to lull a small baby to sleep. The fact that such a voice was emerging from a mess of writhing tentacles did little to make it 'endearing', though. Instead, it was incredibly disturbing. "It'll be quick. I won't harm you unnecessarily."

"Ha... Haha..."

Beatrice's lips curled upwards into a cruel smile- though it was trembling slightly, and didn't look sincere. Because, underneath it, she was terrified.

Beatrice was bluffing.

And, despite her obvious fright, she still said, "I-I… Would never submit to a creature like you… D-do your worst."

"Certainly," came Adorea's reply.

Battler watched the scene as though it were in slow motion. Adorea lent down, her tentacles uncoiling themselves, sliding round Beato's neck and cheeks, keeping her head in place, preventing her escape. Beatrice's eyes were too wide, despite her bravado, and she was trembling, shaking, and that smile was too stretched and didn't look real at all, and, quite suddenly, Beatrice _wasn't_ Battler's enemy- not at all.

She was another victim of Fran's tireless crusade to 'help' people.

And Battler needed to save her.

"Get your hands off of Beato!"

Battler was hardly aware he'd moved until he felt his fist collide with Adorea's stomach. The taller woman stepped back with a surprised sound of pain, her hands circling her stomach, and Battler took Beatrice into his arms, glaring at Fran and Adorea with narrowed eyes.

Beatrice looked about as surprised as Battler felt.

"B-battler? What are you doing?"

"Saving you."

Battler's reply was so nonchalant, despite his rapidly beating heart and the fear clouding his brain, that it made him feel slightly better.

Just a little.

Now, Battler could understand why Beatrice had tried to act so brave. It was easier to cope with horrific events if you told yourself obvious lies and said 'it'll be okay'- even if it wouldn't, and you knew it wouldn't.

"I don't need to be saved!" Beatrice's reply was firm, as though she was scolding an impudent child. At that moment, she sounded a lot like Virgilia. "I was just finishing up a little business with Fran, you-"

But Battler cut her off.

"If you _really_ don't care what happens to you, when why did you look so afraid?" he demanded angrily, taking Beatrice's shoulders and shaking her.

He'd already lost his family thanks to Fran's intervention.

Losing Beatrice as well- the only person he could call his 'ally', even if she was, technically, his enemy- would have been too painful. And Beatrice had been recklessly trying to throw her life away. Battler knew she was a witch, but if she had no internal organs left, her chances of survival- even with magical means- seemed impossible.

How would she be able to revive herself if she was already dead?

The answer was simple.

She wouldn't.

Beatrice's face went through a range of different emotions at Battler's words, from shock, to a brief spell of strange... happiness?... to outright anger.

"I wasn't afraid! How dare you suggest I, the Golden Witch, Beatrice, was _scared_ of a little girl and her _pet_! I've lived for one thousand years, and seen more horrors than you could possibly imagine! A little girl like Fran Madaraki is of no threat to me! She's like a drop in the ocean! No- not even that!"

"Then do you want to have your innards ripped out?" Battler shouted back at her. "Because if you want to die that badly, I'll do it! I'll kill you! It's my job to kill you! You've put my family and me through so much bullshit I have a _**right **_to end your life! If anybody else does it in my place I'll feel cheated! You won't die until **I** say you can, Beato! Wasn't that part of our game? I'd _never _let myself be killed by anyone other than **you**, because you're my opponent! You could extend me the same courtesy!"

For whatever reason, Battler felt strangely betrayed. Betrayed, and upset. And confused.

But he knew, from the very bottom of his heart, that he really didn't want Beatrice to die.

Not like that.

He didn't want _anyone _to die like that.

And Battler knew, when he killed Beatrice (because it was **his** job and his alone), he'd do it quickly. So she didn't have a chance to feel fear, or pain.

Beatrice, no matter what façade she tried to hide behind, still had human emotions. She still had a heart.

And Battler knew she could feel pain.

...He would never let Beatrice die so cruelly.

He'd be... kind.

So, until it was time to end his game with Beatrice, and end it _properly,_ he'd protect her.

He wouldn't let her die.

Beatrice looked at him in confusion, a very faint, barely visible dusting of pink spreading across her cheeks.

"B-battler... I... Didn't think it would upset you..."

Battler glared at her.

"No. It hasn't upset me. It's _**pissed me off.**_"

"Oh? T-that's... That was so beautiful, Battler..." said Fran.

Battler whipped his head around in surprise. He'd been so lost in his intent to protect Beatrice, he'd almost forgotten about the enemy (now _there_ was a piece of irony if ever there was one).

Fran was sniffing softly, her large, butterscotch eyes filling with tears. They trickled down her cheeks like pearls, and she didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I-it was so brave... When you went to save her like that," said Fran, sniffling- but she was smiling through her tears. "Humans may be cruel, violent creatures... But when they care about someone, and want to protect them, it just... it warms my heart..."

Battler narrowed his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Fran- not when he was 100% positive her speech would end with a 'I'm still going to steal Beatrice's organs, though. Kay thanks.'

"Shut up, Fran!" Battler yelled, stabbing a finger at the theatrically sobbing girl. "Let's talk business, okay? We'll find a new way of paying you for your services! But you absolutely cannot harm Beato! I forbid it! Nobody can lay a finger on her except me!"

"Oh?" Fran tilted her head to one side. "Well, there is one other offer- but you already refused it."

"What is it?"

"Don't you remember?" Fran giggled softly. "How foolish. I thought you would, considering it involved... taking _your _innards instead."

Battler paused.

He did a double-take. If he'd been drinking any of Ronove's tea, he certainly would have sprayed it out of his mouth at that comment.

"H-huh?"

"You see, I've been interested in you as well as Beato for some time," Fran explained, smiling. "Beatrice may be a witch, but there's something special about you, too. Namely, there were two Battler Ushiromiyas- one in the human world, and one residing here. I became curious ever since I saw that unique phenomenon. I already collected some blood samples and the like from the human Battler, but I'm really interested in comparing that with samples from_ you_. Are people who reside in this world different to their counterparts in the human world? I wonder…

"And, as I said before, it wouldn't hurt having samples from a kid related directly to Miss Eva! Your heart or lungs or liver could help save your aunt in another dimension! Hahaha!~"

Battler didn't like the sound of Fran's dark musings.

"C-can't we settle this some other way?"

"Oh? What way are you suggesting? I'm listening~"

Battler faltered. "I-I..."

He cast his eyes about the room for inspiration. White stared back at him. He'd never hated that bland, uninspiring color more than he did at that moment.

"I don't know, but can't you resolve this without murdering people? I-I thought your philosophy was to save everyone?"

"Ah, but you see what I see so clearly?" Fran asked. "If there _are_ 'magical' properties in the blood of yourself or Beato, then that could save thousands of humans!"

"W-what about 'one life is never worth more than another'? What about that?"

And at that argument...

Fran began to giggle.

Battler felt an icy chill run up his spine, as though somebody had pressed their cold fingers on the back of his neck.

"But don't you see, Ushiromiya Battler?" Fran asked, spreading her arms wide. "That's the _beauty _of this situation! I won't be killing anyone! Beatrice is a witch, so she can revive herself. I'd feel no guilt at all. Her 'magic' is far superior to my medicine. And Battler... Aren't you forgetting... There are two of you."

"N-ngh..." Battler flinched.

"Yes. Even if you die, an 'Ushiromiya Battler' still exists. In essence, I haven't murdered _anyone_. And that's what makes this form of repayment so wonderful."

"W-wait a minute-"

"Adorea!" Fran said, clapping her hands together once more. "There's been a slight change of plan. Beato isn't your target anymore. Go for Battler instead."

"Yes, Miss Fran. As you wish."

Battler winced as he felt Adorea's fingers on his arm, curling around his wrist. He hadn't realised how cold they were. How dead they felt. The smell of rotting flesh and mouldy bread grew stronger and stronger the closer Adorea got to him, until he was almost choking on the foul foetor. He stopped breathing through his nose- but he could still taste the smell on his tongue every time he inhaled.

He choked.

He was going to suffocate before Adorea inhaled his organs- of that, he was sure.

"H-hey!" Beatrice shouted, rushing forwards in a haze of skirts and bouncing curls to grab hold of Fran's shoulder. "We had a deal! You said you wouldn't hurt Battler. You _said-_"

"But Battler said I couldn't hurt _you_," Fran replied. A lazy, sleepy grin tugged at her lips. "I realize you were the one who originally requested my help, but it was _Battler's _family and friends I operated on. Therefore, I think Battler's opinion on the matter takes precedence over yours. So I'll do what Battler wants."

"B-but… Battler never asked you to... to..." Beatrice was shuddering. Her fingertips dug even deeper into Fran's shoulders. "He never asked you take his life."

"But I have to be paid back in some way. I'm sorry, but that's how the human world works. I'm sorry if magic is different- but I can't change that."

Battler had to close his eyes as Adorea's face drew closer. If he didn't, he was sure he would have fainted from fear. Adorea had him pressed up against a wall, and she was leaning over his face. Battler felt a horrible, slimy sensation against his cheek- and it increased, as more and more of Adorea's tentacles latched around his face and neck. They were deathly cold- it felt like being submerged in wet, icy water.

Something was prising his mouth open...

Aodrea was going to inhale his organs as 'payment' and leave him, a broken, empty shell.

He was going to die.

He was going to-

"Battler! Don't worry- I've got you."

Battler felt hands take hold of his shoulders, and then he was pulled sideways roughly by an unseen person. At the same time, the tentacles around his mouth were pulled away with a sick squelching noise, and he found himself wrapped in somebody's arms.

Battler cracked his eyes open slowly, hardly daring to believe he'd been saved.

But he had.

Adorea stood before him, her face a writhing mess of tentacles. A dark purplish bruise was blooming on her shoulder blades. Even though she was so close (only a few feet away- enough to make Battler cringe and turn his head), she couldn't attack him. She couldn't fulfil Fran's 'transaction'.

And that was because a large, glowing barrier stood between them.

Battler turned around, his face filled with surprise, to find Beatrice with her arms protectively round him. Ronove stood a little to her left. His eyes were narrowed, and he looked unusually serious, all traces of his pleasant smile gone. Usually, his facial expressions were light, like a summer's day. Now, however, they were cold and wintry. Battler suppose, by the way he was standing with his hands held forwards, that he was the one supporting the shield.

Fran, however, didn't look perturbed by this turn of events.

Her smile didn't even waver.

"Oh my. It seems another person wants to become involved in the business negotiations," she said, giggling. "That's fine! The more the merrier. If you're that desperate to be involved, Beato's butler, I can always tack you on as extra added interest. Or collateral. You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs." Fran shrugged. "I don't mind. But my, my, my. This really is my lucky day."

Then, Fran cleared her throat.

"Adorea! You have another new target. Go easy on him, though- he was very polite when he served me tea and returned my missing eye."

Adorea nodded her head. "Understood."

Beatrice bit her lower lip at this, and concern flickered across Ronove's face.

"B-beato," Battler said, stuttering.

Adorea was coming closer to the barrier- and the mere sight of her made Battler flinch. He could still remember the feel of Adorea's tentacles on his face- and had no desire for them to be there again. He was sure it was his imagination, but he could actually feel his intestines twisting themselves up in his body, as though they were actively trying to leap out of his mouth.

"Beato. She can't get past the shield, can she?"

"It won't hold forever," was Ronove's grim answer. "And, at any rate, Milady made a contract with Miss Fran."

"A... contract?"

"When a witch makes an official contract- or agreement, I suppose- with another person, they're obligated to follow it," Ronove explained. His face was taught with worry. "If they don't, things could... turn out quite horribly for the witch in question."

"So...?"

"As part of the contract, I can't use any offensive magic against Fran until my debt has been fully repaid," said Beatrice. She grit her teeth together and hissed. Her eyes burned like hot coals. "Because believe me, if I could hurt her, that girl would be dead fifty times over in the most unimaginable, excruciating ways..."

Battler didn't want to ask what those murder methods were, exactly. He knew Beatrice had a penchant for strange and unusual murders- and, having being alive for over a thousand years, Battler could guess she knew how to torture people in all kinds of horrific manners.

But, somehow, Battler was sure Beatrice could never do anything crueller than what Fran had done to his family.

That was because Beatrice didn't 'save' people. She didn't force them out of their graves into live a life of misery and pain and humiliation.

She always, in the end, killed them.

And that was far kinder than what Fran did.

"Then what about the shield?" Battler asked- though he already knew the answer, as Adorea approached it with no signs of stopping.

"It won't hold for very long. Not if- if-... ... Ah... ..."

Ronove had been mid-way through an explanation, but Adorea had cut him off before he could finish.

Unlike the previous times with Battler and Beatrice, Adorea did not halt to savour the moment of collecting Fran's 'payment'. Instead, she took hold of Ronove's fingers roughly, crushing them between her own, and slammed his head against the wall. Then, moving at impossible speeds, she bent forwards and ensnared his head and neck between her unfurling, extended tentacles.

Ronove didn't even scream.

He didn't make any attempts to escape.

Well- Battler supposed he couldn't, anyway. Because Adorea had him held firmly in place as she, ever so slowly, ingested his innards.

Battler could only watch for a few moments- but the sight quickly turned his stomach, and he had to look away. However, he swore he could see Adorea's limbs, which had been so stick-thin and sickly before, slowly swelling; pulsating, like the tentacles emerging from her neck.

"R-ronove!" Beatrice said. Her voice was half a sob, and half a disgusted moan that sounded like the prequel to a bad spell of retching and shuddering.

"Y-you can help him though, can't you, Beato...?" Battler asked, his voice trailing away into oblivion.

He stared down at Beatrice's blue eyes. They weren't filled with pride or arrogance. Instead, she looked like a lost, lonely little girl. It was the same expression she'd worn after Battler hit her- but this one was infinitely more truthful.

But maybe, just maybe...

Maybe that look of pained, surprised hurt she'd worn before had been genuine, too.

"I-I could..." Beatrice affirmed. "B-but... B-but not if she goes for me next..."

Battler swallowed. He clenched his fists. Tried to gather enough courage to say what he had to say.

"Beato." He was surprised his voice wasn't shaking.

Beatrice looked up at him.

"Beato, she already said she'd... murder me instead. So... You won't be hurt."

"Huh. Ha... Hahaha." Beatrice gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Won't I?"

"You can always use your magic to revive me, right?" Battler asked, taking hold of Beatrice's shoulders. His eyes smouldered with intensity. "I mean, I don't... want to have my organs removed via my mouth-"

"You'd have some very strange interests if you did," Beatrice said dryly.

Battler grinned. "Almost as strange as yours."

"That hurt, you know. Apologize."

"Maybe I will. After you revive me. Your magic can do that, right?"

"...To an extent," said Beatrice, biting her lower lip. She seemed to be pondering something. "But even so, I wouldn't want to see you die... Not like that."

"I thought you couldn't wait to kill me in a variety of cruel and unusual ways," said Battler. He smirked. "Remember the goats? And the collar? Actually..." He shuddered. "I don't really want to remember that."

Beatrice's face twisted into an interesting expression. Like before, her pretty face ran through a series of emotions- most of which had no place next to each other- and then, finally, she began to smile.

A real smile.

"Hahaha. That's different."

"How is it different?"

"Because in all those scenarios, _**I **_was the one torturing you. It was fun. I don't want to give the pleasure to somebody else- or I'd be out of a job!"

"Ihihihi~" Battler laughed easily- and he was surprised just how... right (to use a cliché term) it felt, having a conversation like that with Beatrice. He was sure, if they hadn't been enemies, they would have gotten along quite well.

After all, Beatrice- whether Battler liked it or not- had many of the attributes he wanted his ideal woman to have. Blonde hair, a Western look, very large boobs- which were always a plus. But she was funny, too, and easy to talk to, and not at all refined or ladylike.

The only problem was, she was also a witch.

A witch Battler refused to believe in.

And he was going to have to kill her.

Because she would, quite literally, be the death of him.

"Aren't you getting a bit possessive there, Beato?"

"No more than you," Beatrice replied, rapping him over the head with her knuckles. "...Stupid boy."

"Idiotic old woman."

Beatrice opened her mouth, ready to say something else, but she was cut off by the sound of clapping.

"A-ah... Ooh... T-that's so beautiful... I feel like I'm watching a movie! I-I feel like I should have some popcorn... O-or would that ruin the moment…? I-it's so cute... Kyahh!" Fran was sobbing again.

"Fran. I don't care what you're going to do to me!" Battler shouted, stabbing a finger at the crying girl. "Do your worst! I'm not afraid! And after this you'll leave Beato alone, right?"

"Hmn~" Fran made a small humming noise, placing her fingers under her chin in thought. "Well... You've presented me with quite a problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"I need to collect my payment... But..." Fran sighed. Tears were still beading in her eyes. It looked like she had some kind of switch inside her, and any mention of 'romance' turned it on. Then, the tears started. It was a very unpredictable, calculated response; not all 'human'. It reminded Battler of the functions of a robot. "You and Beato are too adorable to kill right now! I'd... feel bad."

Battler didn't allow himself to hope. That would have been fatal- and he'd already learnt his lesson. Instead, he continued to stand there, finger pointing accusingly at Fran.

"So what? What are you saying?" he asked. "Just get it over with!"

There was a small silence.

Fran sniffled.

Then, she said, "I... I... don't want to anymore..."

Even Battler had to blink in confusion at this. "H-huh?"

Fran nodded. "That's right. Instead... I'll retract my previous statement."

"What?"

"Instead of taking your life, Ushiromiya Battler... I think I'll split the remaining bill half and half between you and Beato. I see now you both care equally about the Ushiromiya family- so I'll listen to both of your requests! Let's compromise! How about that?"

Fran was smiling cheerfully, as though she'd finally managed to solve the mystery of the Mary Celeste.

Battler, however, could only stare at her.

"T-that's useless! It's no good at all! What kind of solution is that?"

"It seems fair to me," said Fran. "I'll split it half and half. I'll take one lung and one kidney from each of you, and maybe... Hmn... I'll take Beato's heart and stomach, and your intestines? Or the other way round? You can choose if you want- I don't mind. I'm a reasonable person, see?"

What little color there remained in Battler's face drained from it.

"I-I never agreed to that!"

"Well!" Fran sighed, throwing her arms in the air. "It's too hard pleasing both of you! So I'll do it my way. Remember- I was the one who helped you. So I should be able to fix my own price on my surgery."

"B-but not... a price like _this_," said Battler. His eyes had widened to such great proportions about three quarters of his face was ocular.

"Why not?" Fran asked, tilting her head to one side. "Everybody wins. I get parts from both of you, which is what I really wanted, and both of your requests get listened to. It seems fair to me. Considering you tried to kill me, Ushiromiya Battler, I think I'm being rather lenient."

"Ngh... Ah..." Battler could hardly talk.

He wanted to keep his promise with Beato.

Only _he_ could kill her.

This 'game' existed solely between him and Beatrice. She was the opponent, and he was the challenger. It was kill or be killed. That was the one truth Battler had discovered (the only truth he had), and he had to protect it.

He couldn't let Fran interfere!

She had no right...

"Adorea! Go for Beato fist," Fran commanded, clapping her hands.

Adorea stepped away from Ronove, the tentacles uncoiling themselves from his face. Battler took a step back at the sight before him, ducking his head, throwing his hands over his mouth to prevent more vomit forcing itself out of his mouth.

Ronove's face was deathly pale. The high pressure Adorea had exerted on him had reduced much of his face to a bloody mess, almost unrecognizable as a human's. Blood trickled from his open mouth, and one of his eyes had been crushed completely; it hadn't popped, not really, but it looked like some sharp object had been forced into it, over and over again.

When Adorea let go of Ronove, he crumpled to the floor.

...And that was what Adorea was going to do to him.

It was what she was going to do to _Beato._

"If we're going to split the organs half and half, maybe it'd be better if we cut an incision in Beato's stomach and removed the organs from the lower half of her body like that. It could be easier that doing it orally," said Fran. She spoke casually, as though she were pondering what color to paint her living room, or what flavor of instant noodles to buy.

But she was talking about human lives.

She was talking about _murder._

"Yes, Miss Fran."

Once more, Adorea's cold, icy fingers reached for Beatrice's wrist.

Beato tried to force a smirk, but it was broken beyond repair- obviously fake. Ruined.

Like the vase.

Battler didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he _could _do anything but accept Fran's method of payment, because Beatrice had created a 'contract'. Beatrice's pride, alongside some strange magical rites between witches Battler didn't know about, had backed her into a corner.

She had to accept Fran's ruling.

But Battler... couldn't...

He didn't want them to hurt Beato.

He didn't-

"Augh!"

Battler heard a sharp noise of pain.

It wasn't Beatrice.

It was Adorea.

Adorea had backed away from Beatrice, as though stung by a wasp. She was breathing heavily- though Battler wasn't sure how, considering she didn't have a mouth.

Producing from her stomach was an intricate metal stake.

A loud whistling sound began to fill the room. It was soft at first, but gradually grew louder and louder, until Battler thought his eardrums might rupture. Then, moving so quickly only after images were left behind, three more stakes cut through Adorea's body, piercing her foot, knee and chest, in that order.

The three remaining stakes took human forms from a multitude of butterflies, revealing themselves as Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Satan.

"It's not fair! Not fairrr!" Beelzebub wailed. "I wanted to pierce something, too!"

"As the third eldest sister, it's unforgivable that my younger sisters pushed me aside before I could protect Milady!" Satan shouted, her cheeks flushed red with rage. "Belphegor! Mammon! It wasn't in your place to push me aside! I'm older than you!"

Belphegor's voice, sensible as always, rang through the room, "There are other areas to attack. Don't limit yourself to those stated by Milady's epitaph."

"But gouging in accordance to the epitaph gives our attacks more power and meaning! Don't lecture me, little sister! You selfishly chose the best places to attack for yourself!" Satan shouted, a vein pulsating at her temple. It looked like she might really try and murder her sisters for their impudence.

"Huhh? Well, if you're that bothered about it, big sis, you can always gouge the head~" said Mammon, her voice teasing.

Satan's shoulders tensed. Her eyes narrowed. "She doesn't **have** a head!"

"Whatever!" Mammon retorted. "Just get on with it!"

"A-ah... Kyah..." Leviathan whined. "S-she's pretty strong! T-that... pisses... me off! H-how is she so strong?"

"Stop arguing," said Lucifer, her voice commanding. "Honestly. You blockheads are _impossible_."

Satan visibly flinched at this insult, as though she'd been slapped.

"B-blockhead?" Her eyes narrowed. "W-we'll see about that, Luci! I won't forgive you for this! Not ever, ever!"

"You've said that so many times I've lost count, little sis," said Lucifer. One could almost hear her rolled eyes in her words.

Satan flushed. "S-shut up!"

Then, in another flurry of golden butterflies, she returned to her 'stake' form and pierced Adorea through her jugular. As she did so, a spay of blood erupted from Adorea's neck, dribbling down the front of her white dress.

Mammon whistled appreciatively. "Nice one."

"Humph," Satan's voice replied. "Don't think I've forgiven you for being so rude."

"W-we better get started too, right?" said Asmodeus.

Beelzebub nodded.

The remaining sisters both transformed into their stake forms. Then, moving at speeds impossible for the human eye to follow, they rebounded around the walls, searching for a good spot to impale Adorea.

Within seconds, Adorea's long, lithe body had been impaled from all sides by all seven sisters.

"N-ngh... A-ah..." Small noises of pain emitted from Adorea. If she'd had a face, Battler was sure she'd be wincing.

A horrible chorus of giggling began to fill the air.

"Kyahaha! That's what you get for harming Milady!"

"We'll never forgive you for your impudence! Never!"

"Ooh~ Piercing you feels so goood~ Ahhh~"

"Fufufufu!"

"Kyahahaha!"

Battler to turned to look at Fran, to see how she'd react. Would she be surprised? Angry?

But, to Battler's shock...

She was smiling.

It was an eerie, knowing smile. As though this was part of her plan. And the seven stakes had fallen right into her trap.

"Oh look," said Fran. She sounded thoroughly unconcerned. She could have been looking at a cabbage, for all the shock she showed on her face. "More... interest to collect. Hehe~ Lucky!"

"...No."

Beatrice's soft, pained moan made Battler turn around.

Beatrice's face was filled with worry, and she was clutching her arms around her stomach, as though physically injured. She was shuddering, too, as though several thousand volts of electricity had been run through her body. She looked a lot... smaller than usual. Almost vulnerable. Like a young girl watching her dog run out into the middle of a busy road- and she had no way of saving him.

"Beato?"

"I-I never authorized this..." Beatrice muttered under her breath. Her voice sounded crazed. "W-why couldn't you listen to me? Why did you have to get involved? T-this... Has nothing to do with you!"

"But you're our leader, Milady," said Lucifer coolly. "We're obliged to help you."

"Not unless I request it! Why can't you listen to me?"

"B-but we couldn't stand there and watch you get hurt!" Asmodeus said. Her voice sounded thick, as though she was on the brink of tears. "I-I thought you'd be happy... I-I thought... W-we were just trying to help!"

"Yeah! Don't be mean to Asmodeus, Milady! She's just a kid!" said Beelzebub.

"I-I'm not a kid!" Asmodeus retorted. "I-I know what I'm doing! And- a-ah... Kyahhh!"

Battler watched, horror struck, as Adorea reached down...

And began to pull the stakes from her body, one by one, as though they were nothing more than a minor irritation.

The ones lodged in her stomach, her jugular, her heart- ones that would have caused fatal wounds for a human- she slid out easily, without any sign of pain. As she removed the stake embedded in her stomach, her fingers caught on the heavy bandages around her. They fell off as she removed the stake, revealing an expanse of snowy white skin with a shining, metallic zipper carving through it.

As Adorea dropped the stakes on the stakes on the floor with a clatter, they began to revert back to their human forms. First to transform was Asmodeus. One of her pigtails had come loose, and her uniform was rumpled, in disarray. Next was Leviathan, then Belphegor- and, finally, as Adorea removed the last stake (the one in her knee), Mammon's human form was revealed.

All the sisters were lying on the ground in a heap, on top of each other, like old toys kicked to the side in a child's bedroom.

"W-what's going on...? W-what's wrong? W-why couldn't we hurt her?" asked Asmodeus.

"Why didn't our attack kill her? Why?" Satan shouted, kicking Beelzebub off her (Beelzebub gave a small cry of pain) and dusting off her clothes. "Any other person would have died! Why is she so different?"

"But Adorea isn't 'any other person'," said Fran, smiling. "I made her, after all. She's rather more hard-wearing than you may think."

"And..." Beatrice winced. She turned her head away. "Because of the contract I made with Fran... Your attacks are significantly depowered."

"D-depowered?" asked Leviathan.

"You mean we can't hurt her?" asked Lucifer.

Beatrice nodded. The movement was jerky, as though she didn't want to admit to the truth.

But it _was_ the truth.

It was inescapable.

Satan didn't seem to want to accept it, though. The white-haired girl got to her feet, shaking slightly- but she still stood tall and proud, like a sunflower, to glare at the abomination of bandages, zippers and tentacles that was Adorea.

"Screw that!" Satan shouted. "I don't care if there are power restrictions! I'll pierce you again and again, as many times as I need to, until-"

Fran's yawn cut through Satan's speech.

"That's very interesting, but we need to clear through you small fry until we get to the main event. I'm sorry to undermine your final moments, Miss... Satan? There are too many of you for me to remember all the names, haha, but we need to work our way through the smorgasbord now. I want to finish this business as quickly as possible."

"Y-you!" Satan turned to glare at Fran- and Battler half-expected her to try and stake Fran. "How dare you talk to me, Satan, the third eldest of the seven sisters of purgatory, like that? I'll make you kneel in the dirt and glorify my name- no! My master's name! I'll-"

"Little sis, you idiot! Watch yourself!"

Lucifer got to her feet and pushed Satan out of the way-

Only to have Adorea's tentacles latch around her head instead.

What followed was very similar to Ronove's end. Adorea's tentacles pulsated sickly, with strange squelching sounds that reminded Battler of stepping on seaweed, as they kept Lucifer in place. Adorea's limbs slowly began to mutate, too. Her figure began to fill out, the hips getting slightly broader, her legs and arms thicker, as she absorbed all of Lucifer's insides...

And, like Ronove, Lucifer did not scream.

She stood there and took her punishment, not moving a muscle, nor trying to escape.

Maybe she knew it was impossible.

Inevitable.

She was going to die.

When Adorea finally let Lucifer go, Lucifer's once-pretty face had been reduced to a train wreck of blood and broken capillaries. The delicate blood vessels on the surface of her eyes had burst, reducing her eyes to a mess of clear fluid and dark crimson blood. Her stomach had compacted in on itself, making a biconcave shape- her insides had been reordered too thoroughly to correctly hold the shape of her body.

Lucifer swayed slightly, as though she was still alive- as though she was trying to remain upright. A few seconds later, however, she collapsed, her knees giving way beneath her.

She was dead before she hit the floor.

But Battler knew, in reality, she'd been dead long before that.

"A-ah..."

Beatrice gave a choked gasp that sounded like a sob. Battler saw her eyes were welling with tears- and he knew, at once, that Beatrice never intended to get her furniture involved. She never even intended to get Battler involved.

She'd been willing to use herself as 'payment', but nobody else.

The tears in her eyes said that much.

"Ahh! N-no!" screamed Beelzebub, grabbing Asmodeus and hugging her. It looked like she was afraid she'd be next. "Luci! Big sis! B-big sis!"

Asmodeus returned Beelzebub's too-strong hug, resting her head on her sister's shoulder. "D-don't hurt us! Don't kill us! N-not like how you killed Luci! Ahh! Ahhh! ...Ooh... Haaa..."

But their tears were in vain.

Adorea reached forwards once more. She paused for a few moments, as though stuck for choice- but, finally, her fingers wrapped around Leviathan's collar. She hoisted the girl to her feet as though she weighed no more than a feather, and fixed her tentacles around Leviathan's mouth.

Leviathan's remains were similar to Lucifer and Ronove's corpses; broken eyes, her mouth prised open, her skin so pale it was almost whiter then the decor of the metaworld.

Adorea threw Leviathan's drained corpse roughly down on the floor, like somebody would throw away trash. It hit the ground with a dull thunk, landing only inches away from the still sobbing, still embracing forms of Asmodeus and Beelzebub.

Next Adorea reached for Belphegor and Satan, ensnaring both stakes with her tentacles at the same time.

Satan didn't die quietly, unlike her sisters. She thrashed about, screamed, tried to push Adorea away- but Adorea's fingers reached for Satan's own, in a horrible parody of hand holding. Adorea's grip became tighter and tighter, like iron, until there was a horrible crunching sound, and Battler realised she'd broken all of Satan's fingers.

After that, Satan stopped struggling.

Battler was sure he could pin-point the exact moment all life drained out of her and her skin turned white- no, more like _grey_.

"A-ah! Big sis! Big sis!" Asmodeus wailed. "B-big sis..."

"No! No!" Beelzebub cried, as Adorea threw the two drained corpses away and reached for Mammon. "D-don't kill Mammon! D-don't! S-spare us... Spare us! ...H-ha... A-ahhh!"

"Y-you idiots… Y-you morons… I-I'll forgive you for disobeying my orders!"

Battler was shocked to find Beatrice was crying, too. Tears slowly, silently dripped down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. Instead, she just stood there, unmoving, like a doll. Her face was pale as porcelain.

"Milady," said Mammon. Contrary to the corpses littering the floor, Mammon's voice was calm. Commanding. "It's alright. Don't cry."

Battler couldn't help but feel Mammon was stealing his lines- but he couldn't open his mouth to say any of them.

To see the seven sisters of purgatory being defeated so easily, and in such a horrible way, when they'd inflicted such pains on the rest of his family on the game board, was... Well. Battler didn't have the right words for it.

He supposed seeing his enemies murdered so cruelly should have been cathartic.

It wasn't.

When Asmodeus and Beelzebub cried helplessly they didn't look like his enemies. Not at all. Battler remembered the few times he'd spent with the sisters in the metaworld. He'd played a few games of chess with Lucifer. Asmodeus liked to tell him terrible jokes when she thought he was down. Beelzebub always tried to steal his food.

They weren't... bad people.

Like Beatrice, they merely played a role on the game board. But in the metaworld, they weren't heartless killers at all.

They were just... young girls.

Young girls being cruelly murdered, one after the other, with no remorse.

And Battler knew, when Adorea had finished with them, he'd be next.

"W-why are you doing this?" Battler shouted at Fran, his fingers clenching into fists. "Why? Why?"

"I'm just settling my payment with Beato," said Fran, shrugging. "What's the matter?"

Battler felt hatred- cold, raw hatred- bubbling up in his veins. The wails from Asmodeus and Beelzebub didn't help matters.

He wanted to kill Fran.

To finish off what he'd started before- and, this time, he wanted to ensure she couldn't sew herself back together.

Fran didn't seem to have any understanding, any _concept, _of suffering. She needed to be taught a lesson. She needed to know what it was like to be afraid- truly terrified for your life- as your friends were murdered, one by one, and you knew you'd be next.

But she didn't have a heart.

She was a _demon_; far more of a demon than Beatrice, Ronove and the stakes.

And she would never learn.

She was beyond saving.

"These sisters shouldn't be part of your... 'payment'!" Battler spat the word as though it were disgusting. And, to him, it was. "They're innocent! Just leave them alone! Leave them!"

"They got themselves involved of their own violation," was Fran's reply. "It's not my fault."

"T-then you... Just..." Battler's eyes filled with tears. "Kill me! Kill me! B-but stop... Stop this! Don't… kill the others!"

"A-ah..." Asmodeus looked at Battler with wide, tearful eyes, as though she'd never seen him before. "B-battler..."

"Y-you..." Beelzebub sniffed. "You sounded so... cool... back then... A-ah... Haa..."

But Fran remained unmoved. Her small, pleasant smile did not fade.

"Why don't we look at it like this then?" she asked, prodding one finger in the air as she made a point. "I operated on seventeen people in Rokkenjima. Therefore, I should be repaid with seventeen corpses. Seventeen loads of 'parts'. If I take the lives of these seven sisters, plus Ronove, yourself and Beato, that's only ten people. I'm giving you a good deal, really. And, since I'm willing to go half and half on you and Beato, that's really only nine. So... Isn't that nice?" Fran smiled. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

Battler stared at Fran in horror, as though she'd just grown another head.

How could he respond to a crazy statement like that?

How could he...?

_How could __**she?**_

"Battler."

Battler flinched, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Mammon.

"Battler, listen to me. And you too, Milady," said Mammon. Her voice was still calm; so calm it made Battler feel slightly abashed. Her eyes were set with determination. "We disobeyed Milady's orders. As such, we brought this punishment upon ourselves. We were… too eager. And we didn't follow orders. I apologize."

"No." Battler's reply was firm, despite his shaking body. "Nobody deserves to be punished like this, no matter what they did."

"...Well." Mammon smiled gently. Battler somehow got the feeling she was one of the most responsible sisters. "That may be so. But I can't change that. If Milady made a contract with Miss Fran, then I really have no way of fighting back."

"So you're just... giving in?" Battler asked, voice incredulous.

"Haa... Big sis...?" Asmodeus cried. "W-we're going... to... die?"

"Well." Mammon sighed. Then, she reached down at patted Asmodeus on the head. "It's not like it hasn't happened before. Remember?"

"I-I remember..." said Asmodeus. She sniffled.

"W-why does everybody want to hurt us?" Beelzebub cried. "E-even our friend... Even An-"

"Shhh." Mammon ruffled Beelzebub's head roughly. It was her way of saying 'shut up- you've said too much.' "At any rate, I can hardly believe we won't be summoned again. Death is an alien concept to demons as long as more witches are around who require our services. So don't worry."

"B-but I don't wanna die! I-I... I don't… I-it hurts!" Beezlebub sobbed.

"It'll hurt, it'll hurt... I don't want to end up like Satan... or Luci..." cried Asmodeus.

Mammon sighed. Her eyes were downcast.

"I can't change that. You'll have to accept it."

"There must be something you can do," said Battler, staring at Mammon intently. "D-don't give up."

"...Well." Mammon smiled. It was small. Barely there. But it was still a smile. "You can talk to Fran. Tell her to reconsider. Tell her to... spare your life."

"A-and..." Battler's words caught in his mouth. "M-murder Beato instead...?"

Mammon flinched a little- as did Beatrice.

But Beatrice nodded.

"Yes," said the Golden Witch. "Do what Mammon says… And let Fran kill me."

"N-no way!"

"I'm sure it's what Milady would want," said Mammon seriously. "She may not look it, but she's very caring. She wouldn't want you to be hurt because of her. I know that for sure. She'd rather die for you."

"I-it's... true." Beatrice's voice was weak, damaged from misery and tears- but she managed to make it sound as regal and commanding as she could, given the circumstances. "Mammon's right. Haha... She always was a smart one. Not like her stupid sisters."

"B-but Beato-"

"Milady's magic is limited. She may be powerful, but she has not been fully acknowledged as a witch. In addition, she handed her title over to Eva in the previous game. Whilst she has since reclaimed her title, her magic is not as powerful as it usually is," Mammon explained. "Trying to revive so many of us would be difficult for her. Maybe impossible. Even if you managed to negotiate with Fran so Milady stayed alive, I doubt she'd be of much use."

Battler flinched to hear such cruel, straight-forward words from Mammon's mouth. However, Beatrice's expression didn't falter. Instead, she nodded.

"I have word that, within time, a very powerful witch will introduce herself to you," said Mammon. "She'll take the form of a girl about your age, with red hair and two stubby pigtails."

Battler eyes widened at this description.

He recognised that girl.

"Yes," said Mammon, nodding. "The powerful witch is the girl who slapped some sense back into you at the end of the third game. I'm convinced of her magical abilities. No doubt, she'll be able to revive myself and my sisters. You better talk to her about it. Don't forget."

"A-alright, Mammon..." said Battler, trying to keep his voice steady. "I-I'll remember."

Mammon smiled. She patted Battler on the head.

"Thank you."

And then, standing straight, her hands clenched at her sides, she turned to face Adorea.

"Go on. Collect your 'payment'. I'm not scared."

Adorea nodded.

"I'll be... gentle, Miss. I don't believe in causing people unnecessary pain."

And then Adorea dipped her head forwards, took hold of Mammon's hands, and ensnared her face between the writhing mass of tentacles.

Mammon didn't struggle. She didn't scream. She simply stood there, her fingers still clenched at her sides, unmoving, like a rock. Even when Adorea drew her head away, revealing another ravaged face of broken blood vessels and eye sockets bleeding crimson, there was something... dignified... about Mammon's death.

Then, Adorea turned to Beelzebub and Asmodeus. They were still hugging each other tightly- so tightly it seemed neither could breathe.

"B-big sis... Our sisters... Ooh..." Asmodeus wailed, as she looked about the sea of dead bodies with frightened eyes.

"A-ah... I-I'm scared... I'm scared, Asmo!" Beelzebub cried.

"I-I'm scared, too!"

"B-but... Haa... L-let's... Be brave..." Asmodeus' speech was so fragmented, every staccato gasp pierced Battler's heart like a skewer.

"Y-yeah..." Beezlebub nodded, wiping away her tears with the back of her sleeve. "L-let's be brave... For all our big sisters who tried to protect us..."

"I-it'll be okay. We'll see her soon, won't we? She'll bring us back..."

"Yes." Beezlebub smiled, ever so slightly. "W-we'll be reunited with our sisters again. And we'll see her."

"Our best friend."

"I hope she'll still accept us…"

"And then, maybe we can apologize…"

Adorea surveyed the weeping sisters with some trepidation. She paused. Even though she'd cut through Beatrice's furniture so coolly, without batting an eyelid (not that she had any eyelids to bat), she seemed to be feeling... guilty.

"I'm sorry."

That was what Adorea said.

Then, almost in slow motion, she pulled Beelzebub and Asmodeus to their feet...

And began to feed.

Within seconds, all of Beatrice's trustworthy, powerful furniture had been reduced to pale, lifeless dolls.

Battler noticed, as he stared, that their bodies seemed to be crystallising...

Then, like putting a fist through a window, they began to shatter.

The dead, lifeless forms of Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Belphegor, Mammon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Ronove disappeared.

All that was left were Beatrice, Battler, Adorea...

And Fran.

They were only survivors from Fran's 'business deal'.

And now one more of them was going to die.

That seemed almost inescapable.

* * *

**a/n: **Hauuu!~ I love Mammon :3  
In fact, I love all of the stakes. That was why it was so nice being able to do a scene with them in this fic ^_^  
The next chapter is the final one, plus an epilogue: 3 Yay!~  
I hope you liked this chapter, for all it's ellipses abuse, death and melodrama XDD~

**renahhchen xoxo**


	7. Learnt

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow**  
Chapter Seven

'Learnt'

* * *

"So... What are you going to do now?"

Fran had, without asking, sat down in the chair Beatrice usually occupied. Battler noticed, to his disgust, she'd (somehow) summoned a cup and saucer out of thin air. With her legs crossed, taking slow, leisurely sips from her cup of tea every moment or so, she looked right at home. It was almost as if she owned the place- or, at least, she acted like she did.

"W-what... do you mean...?" Battler asked. It was an effort to speak; he had to force the words out.

Fran took another sip of tea. She seemed to measuring him up- pondering what he'd do next. How much can I push him until he breaks? How much pressure can I exert on this human until he collapses? Battler was sure that was what Fran was thinking.

Even so, Battler was sure- almost 100% positive- that Fran wouldn't see anything cruel in such musings. To her, pressing his buttons, getting him to explode or break down, was probably an innocent 'social experiment'. A case of cause and reaction. She was only getting 'field notes' on the strange behavior of humans so she could better understand them and 'help' them later.

How will they react if I do this?

If I poke his wounds with verbal barbs will he start to cry?

Will he get angry?

What's the meaning behind such a reaction?

She was just doing some research.

And, after all, wasn't that her job?

Battler was sure, to Fran, there was no difference between a human being and a science experiment. Perhaps her brain was unable to distinguish the two.

Battler was beginning to doubt whether Fran had the mental capacity to understand just how much she was making him hate her.

She was oblivious.

Unaware.

And she was still smiling.

Somehow... that made her even more dangerous.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Fran asked, tilting her head to one side. She pouted, puffing her cheeks out like a blowfish. "Is there something on my face?" Her fingers- those not holding onto the delicate teacup- went to her head, prodding about at her eyes, nose, cheeks. "Everything's in place, right? I have misplaced anything"

Battler couldn't respond to her curiosity. He could only give a curt nod.

He doubted, even if he explained it to her, in detail, with diagrams, she'd understand.

Because she just didn't have the mental capacity to.

Her brain hadn't been wired up that way.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Fran asked him. "Haha~ It was probably rude not to offer, right? I'm sorry if I was acting in an impolite manner!" She looked truly embarrassed, too. Her pale cheeks were faintly flushed, and she was laughing nervously.

Battler shook his head. He was sure, if he drank or ate anything, it'd be forced out of his stomach and back up out of his mouth fasting than blinking. Fran seemed to have a knack for stimulating the gag reflex in normal humans beings. Even in witches. Beatrice was looking a little pale, as though she were about to swoon, like a woman in a Victorian novel.

"Oh. Okay then..." Fran sighed, staring down at the contents of her own cup. "I just thought, tea lightens up the atmosphere, right? And Beato told me the best people to drink tea with are witches... I wanted to see if that was true, but I suppose, if you won't indulge my selfish whims, it can't be helped...

"It's starting to feel a little tense around here, though, isn't it? I wonder why... I wonder. Why is that...?"

Fran's eyes looked distant and misty. It was obvious she was trying to puzzle something out.

At that moment...

Battler almost felt pity for her.

He was sure, no matter how hard she searched, she would never find an answer.

She would never be able to understand 'people'- not if she only saw them as slabs of meat to be operated on, or interesting specimens to observe.

She would never be like everyone else.

But, for the most part, it seemed she didn't mind, or care, for the opinions of others. She never paused, for one minute, to ponder the sensibilities of her morals. To Fran, she was simply 'good' and 'right'- so why listen to anybody else? Why bother?

Maybe it was a good thing she was so oblivious. Because that meant she would always happy. She'd always be smiling.

But, on the flipside, it also meant she never questioned what she did. She could never change. And she would never stop hurting people.

"Anyway. To business!"

With a small hum and a girlish giggle, Fran put her cup aside and smiled.

"Sooo..." Fran drew the 'o' out as long as possible. At that moment, she sounded incredibly childish- and that innocent image of her Battler had compounded only grew stronger when he realized she'd shifted about in her chair so she was sat cross-legged. "What are we going to do with you? Or, rather... Hmn, I phrased that badly. What do _you _want to do... Ushiromiya Battler? And Beato?"

"A-ah..." Battler made a startled noise, but tried to force it down, as one would swallow something unpleasant. "You're giving us a choice?"

"You make me sound so cruel," said Fran, laughing softly. "I was always going to give you a choice."

"B-but... You were saying you were going to kill Beato and me..."

"Oh no!" Fran recoiled from Battler's words, as though he'd slapped her. "Don't say 'kill'! It's such a harsh word! And I would _never_. Even with Beato's butler and her strangely dressed maid girls- her 'furniture', wasn't it?- I wasn't _killing _them. It'd be different if they were humans, but that Mammon girl- she gave a pretty nice final speech. I got a little choked up, haha- was saying they could always be resurrected. So, to that end... I didn't do anything that cruel."

"Even so, it must have hurt! Didn't you see how afraid they were?" Battler couldn't help but shout at her. Part of him knew Fran was right, sort of (he'd seen for himself just how hard it was to _truly _kill Beatrice and her lackeys), but that didn't excuse how cruel and brutal Fran had been.

It didn't excuse it, and it didn't change it.

But Fran didn't seem to be trying to excuse herself.

"Lots of things hurt," said Fran. Her voice was soft- almost gentle- as though she were talking to a young child. Maybe, if you compared their general intelligence, Battler almost _was_ a child when compared to Fran. He was sure, what with her advanced medical knowledge, she was a lot more intelligent than most. But, at the same time... Her outlook on life was no more advanced than Maria's.

"That doesn't mean I was being cruel on purpose, though. I prefer to say I was 'collecting my payment.' Not _killing. _I hate that word."

Fran laughed, and then shook her head.

"Ahaha- I'm sorry! I got a little carried away.

"Well... heh... I was always going to let you choose your method of repayment, but I got sort of mixed up and confused for a while. You and Beato were both being so brave- 'no, take my organs! Spare the other!' And... Whilst it was very cute, I couldn't really listen to both of you. Otherwise, nothing would get done. So I tried to compromise... But you didn't like that, either. And I thought I was being lenient... You people are so unreasonable, I can't understand how you accomplish _anything _in your daily lives."

Fran scowled again, coiling her hair round her finger in an agitated manner. That expression of deep thought flickered across her face once more. It looked like, even if she couldn't understand, she desperately wanted to.

"Well, if you tried to... ihi... 'collect interest' from both of us, we'd both get hurt," Battler tried to explain- though he wasn't sure why he was bothering. "So neither of us would be happy."

"Heh. You do have a point," said Fran, smiling. "So. What will it be? Are you going to choose now? I'd feel bad if I did it for you."

_Are you going to choose now?_

It was such a simple question- but it was like asking whether you'd rather have the right half of your body removed or the left. Obviously, the answer was 'neither- and anybody would have been able to understand that. It was an impossible question.

But to Fran, Battler was sure the answer seemed simple.

It was either him or Beato.

Who was going to die?

It couldn't be both, and it had to be one of them. So it was just a matter of saying a name. No harm done.

How were you meant to make a choice like that?

No matter what Mammon had said, Battler still didn't want to watch Beatrice die. Not he was in a rush to hand himself over to Adorea himself, but...

This game belonged to him... And Beatrice.

Nobody else.

Nobody else had the right to try and hurt Beato besides him.

"You can choose me."

Beatrice's voice was so strong, so determined, that Battler wasn't sure whether he was hearing things or not. He turned to look at Beatrice in surprise, eyes wide. From the way she was stood, one hand on her hip, her pipe held elegantly in the other, she looked like a proud, arrogant Queen. She was smiling cruelly, and her eyes were narrowed.

What... had happened to the teary-eyed, sobbing Beato Battler had seen before?

Where did she go?

It was almost as if this new Beatrice had eaten her.

Battler was beginning to doubt whether she had existed at all. It seemed impossible such a vulnerable, upset girl could also share a body with this haughty, self-important witch.

This wasn't Beato.

It was the Golden Witch, Beatrice.

This was the woman who had tortured Battler's family so ruthlessly, over and over again, for her own sick entertainment, in her own sick 'game'.

This was the woman who had made Battler's life hell.

And, despite that, she was going... to sacrifice herself for him.

"What's wrong, Bahh~ttler?" Beatrice taunted, cackling. "You're acting like you've never seen me before! Gyahaha!"

Her laugh was enough to make Battler's insides turn over.

"What... What happened to Beato?" he asked, his voice barely more than a confused whisper.

"Huhhhh?" Beatrice sniggered, tilted her head sideways. One of her eyes was half-lidded, whilst the other was larger than usual, creating an aura of almost _insanity _about her. "What? If you wanted the satisfaction of seeing me cry and beg like a weakling in my final moments, before a small child like _Madaraki Fran, _no less, then you were grossly mistaken. Gyahaha!"

But, despite Beatrice's arrogance, Battler was sure... it was just a façade.

A mask.

But Battler wasn't going to try and dispute it. If Beatrice wanted to end her final face off with Fran in a dignified manner, than he wasn't going to take the privilege away from her. He'd never be cruel enough to ruin somebody's pride so completely.

Not even his enemy's.

In the end, he didn't call her out on her bluff.

Instead, all he said was, his voice cracking slightly, "Beato... Are you sure?"

"Humph. Stupid Battler." Beatrice's voice softened as she insulted him. It sounded more like an endearment than anything. She quickly hid her true nature, however, by rapping him over the head with her pipe- and quite forcefully, too. "Are you trying to act like the herooo? Are you going to try and saa~aave me? Remember: we _are _enemies."

"Right. Sure. I'll remember. Ihi... Ihihi..."

And then, in his typical dramatic manner, Battler reached forwards and stabbed a finger in Beatrice's face.

"Just remember that the honor of ending your life should fall into the hands of one, and **only** one person! And that person is me! Ushiromiya Battler! Anything or anybody else is unacceptable!"

"Of course." Beatrice began to cackle. "You think I'd let myself die so easily? I'd never be so weak! I'll be there to fight against you in the final battler, Ushiromiya Battler- and when the time for the grand finale comes, I want you to try and hit me with everything you have!"

"Then it's a promise! I promise I'll kill you, Beato! It's my job- and **mine **alone."

"Ha." A large smile spread across Beatrice's lips. A shark's smile. It looked like she had too many teeth; sharp, glittering fangs, used to tear into the tender flesh of her prey and rip them apart, limb from limb. "Goood. I like a man with spirit... Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler. I look forward to breaking it down, piece by piece."

"Ahaha!" Fran giggled cheerfully, delightedly, from Beatrice's chair. "You guys are so strange!~ Do humans usually proclaim their love with assured mutual destruction? I don't think I've read anything like _that_ before. Hehe."

"Well, it's not a common practice, no," said Battler, shaking his head. "But Beato is pretty coy with her feelings. She doesn't say what she means."

"Oh, I meant what I said, alright. Down to the very last _syllable."_

"Ha! We all know you love me really, Beato."

"Keep deluding yourself if it makes you happy."

"Ah..." Fran sighed, folding her arms. "I'd feel a little guilty breaking you two up. But... I shouldn't, right?" She frowned. "It's not like Beato won't come back. So... no matter what I do, it doesn't matter. Does it?"

"It doesn't matter one bit," said Beatrice, shaking her head. Her shark's grin remained. "I'm not frightened. You still have a lot to learn if you want to pose a serious threat to a witch like me, Madaraki Fran!"

"Well, you've misunderstood me. I don't want to intimidate anyone. I just want to get my job done."

"Do it then!" Beatrice retorted. Her voice was taunting. Goading. "Do it! Do it!"

But, despite her bored, almost languid face, Battler knew, deep inside...

Beatrice was scared.

She was protecting him.

She was his enemy, and she was protecting him.

And... he wouldn't forget that. Even if Beatrice resumed her antics immediately after Fran left, murdering his family again and again without mercy until he gave in, he'd always remember just how kind she could truly be.

And he'd... treasure his memory.

... ...Or maybe...

Maybe this was part of Beatrice's 'plan'.

Maybe she'd always intended to sacrifice herself so Battler would think better of her in the following games.

If so, then why did she bother letting Fran mutilate his family? Wouldn't that make him despise her _more?_

...Battler had never been able to understand women, and Beatrice was perhaps the most complex of them all. She had so many faces- more than a prism- and so many conflicting personalities, her heart was like a maze. Battler wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to reach the center of it.

But Battler respected Beatrice.

If her sacrifice was real, he would respect her kindness.

If her sacrifice was a plot or ploy, he'd respect her cunning.

And, either way, he was sure (he'd promised this to Beatrice, and how he was promising it to himself) that if he ever did defeat Beatrice, he'd do it swiftly. Painlessly. Because it was what she deserved.

He didn't want to hurt her.

"Adorea."

Fran turned to look at her heavily bandaged, zippered assistant. Adorea's limbs were noticeably thicker than before. No longer was she the ethereally stick-thin, rake-like waif of before. Instead, she had real curves and a rounder figure.

And that was because she'd just... 'fed'.

...And now she was about to claim another victim.

The Golden Witch Beatrice.

Adorea nodded.

Then, almost in slow motion, she walked towards Beatrice.

"I won't hurt you, Miss Beatrice. It'll be over quickly," Adorea reassured in her soft, ladylike voice, as she reached forwards to grip Beatrice's neck in her hands.

Beatrice cackled in response.

Beatrice didn't move or struggle when Adorea fastened her in place and slowly, gracefully, dipped her 'head' and began to feed. She didn't shake or shiver. Her death was... very quiet. Refined. Dignified.

And Battler hoped it didn't hurt.

Once Adorea relinquished her hold on Beatrice the golden-haired witch slumped to the floor, limp. Lifeless. As with Ronove and the seven sisters, her skin was pale and ghostly, as though all the color had been drained from it. A dribble of saliva and bright red blood sluiced down her chin. One of her eyes had been popped- well, not 'popped', but the blood vessels running along the surface of it had ruptured. Her blue eyes had been reduced to pools of dark red, like something from a horror movie.

And yet, despite that...

Beatrice still looked solemnly beautiful.

Like a broken doll.

"Well..." said Fran. She spoke quietly; it seemed even she had detected the strange, subtle atmosphere that prevailed in the room, and she didn't want to break it. "I suppose there's no reason why Adorea and I should remain here anymore. We've already... collected our payment."

That seemed like such a miserable, anti-climatic way of phrasing Beatrice's death that it made Battler flinch. In this case, no matter what Fran's morals were, he really thought 'killed' would have been better.

It made Beatrice's demise sound more noble.

And yet, at the same time...

More helpless.

Who was going to revive her?

It may have been relatively easy to use magic to reverse the irreversible. With magic you_ could_ bridge the gap between the land of the living and the land of the dead. With magic you could bring a person's 'soul'- if such a thing existed- back into their body easily. Just like flipping a coin. One side showed death. Another showed life. If you wanted to revive a corpse, it really was as simple as flipping it over so you got a different result.

But in real life, it was never that easy.

People died all the time, and there was no way to bring them back.

Battler's mind went to his family...

They shouldn't have been alive.

It was his own selfish desire, mixed with Fran's unchanging, almost upsetting, and completely unsettling, policy that she had to save _everyone _and make _everyone _happy, that did that. Fran's hands may have been operating on them, but it was Battler's wish for the impossible which had guided those hands.

Fran had achieved the impossible- something that only witches and magic had previously been able to do.

She had brought his family back to life.

She had done it... because she genuinely wanted him to be happy.

But maybe trying to 'save' people on that level was... impossible. Even though they were 'alive', they hadn't been 'saved'- far from it. They were in pain, and completely terrified, and it would have been kinder to let them die because that way, at least nothing could hurt them.

Even though a witch could have saved Beatrice, and all her furniture... If they were humans, and human methods were the only ones that could be used... Would it have been 'right' trying to revive them?

Battler was now sure of the answer.

It was no.

Nobody should try and do that.

Without magic, it simply couldn't be done.

But Fran had been programmed to do those impossible, abominable things, over and over again, with no hope of truly succeeding, because medicine was not 'magic' and it could _not_ cure somebody with absolute certainty. No matter how much research Fran did, and how hard she tried, Battler was sure she'd never be able to help everyone.

And yet, she_ had_ tried.

She'd truly tried.

And... Battler... could sympathize with that.

Maybe.

Just a little.

And he hadn't... thanked her.

Well. He didn't suppose he ever would. Because she wouldn't understand the reason behind it.

Battler wasn't thankful she'd mutilated his family.

But he was thankful she'd tried to help him achieve the unachievable without giving in.

Fran got to her feet noiselessly and walked over to Adorea. She made a spectacle of examining the zippers on Adorea's skin, prodding at her stomach, observing her- but Battler was sure her mind was preoccupied with something from removed from her failed science experiment friend.

To Battler, it looked very much like Fran was deliberating over what to say.

Silence pervaded.

Neither said anything. However, Battler was sure, if Fran's head was filled with one eighth of the number of questions his was, she was struggling to keep them from leaking out of her mouth.

Then...

"Battler. Do you know why human beings are able to sense pain?"

It seemed like such a strange, completely left field question that Battler wasn't sure whether he'd heard her right.

"I'm sorry...?"

"Pain," Fran repeated. Her voice sounded... more serious than usual. Even though she was still bent over Adorea, her fingers preoccupied with redressing her stomach, she was obviously talking to Battler. "Why do humans feel pain?"

"Ah, um... I... don't know?"

"Well, it's quite simple, really. Most people complain when they're in pain, right? Nobody _likes _it. But... it's essential to help ensure the survival of a human being. In layman's terms, I guess you could say pain stops people doing stupid things. It's a form of self defense. You stab yourself in the eye and it hurts, right? It damages the ocular nerves... You'll probably go blind. I doubt most people would be able to force a pointed object into their eye too deeply before they had to draw it out, or... passed out from the shock, maybe. Ah, no- better yet. Most people wouldn't even _consider _putting a pointed object into their eye at all, because they know it's going to hurt. Like learning martial arts to fend off bullies- a extraneous method you can take to further protect yourself from harm- pain is the body's natural process to ensure you don't cause deliberate damage to yourself. Simple, right?"

Fran's voice remained calm and monotone when she spoke. However, Battler was sure she was trying to tell him something.

Something very important.

But Battler really wasn't in the mood to engage in a medical discussion about the pros and cons of 'pain'. Not when Beatrice was...

"Fran...? Are you saying... you don't feel pain?"

Fran turned round to look at Battler in surprise. From her large eyes and small frown, it was obvious that had _not _been what she was getting at.

At _all_.

Battler was vaguely reminded of the time he was seven and he'd been pestering his mother, Asumu. Rudolf had told him not to bother her because she was in a bad mood; apparently, 'the painters were in'. Being only seven, Battler had been extremely confused, because all the rooms in their house were painted already, weren't they?

Battler felt just as ignorant now as he had done then.

"Huh." Fran paused... And then she began to giggle. "For somebody's meant to be 'engaged in a game of wits' with Beato, you're not all that sharp, are you? I guess you're a few fries short of a happy meal. Hahaha~"

Her laughter was so light-hearted and innocent, though, Battler couldn't really be offended by it.

"Of course I feel pain. If I didn't, I'd probably be dead by now," said Fran. "I have a very curious nature. If my body didn't have the pain reflex as a way of saying 'don't do that, you idiot', I probably... would have dissected myself by now. For scientific research. I find the way my professor put me together _very _intriguing indeed. Oh~ He was a real medical genius~ I could never match his dizzying heights of excellence~ Haha~ That's probably why I was given the ability to feel pain in the first place. Otherwise, I'd have destroyed myself in my attempts to discover how my own body works. You know. As you do. For science," Fran smiled sheepishly, as though she were admitting to a shameful secret. Her cheeks were flushed.

"No. What I was trying to say is... Ah. Well." Fran sighed. "In regards to 'pain', did you know some people don't have any pain receptors at all?"

"Lucky them," said Battler dryly.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" said Fran, still smiling. "But no. It can be quite... unpleasant.

"For instance. A few years ago- although, in your case, this would be a few years in the future, huh?- I heard about a young girl. She was born without properly functioning pain receptors in her hands. She also had a penchant for biting her fingernails- which is a pretty unfortunate combination. Kind of like mixing coke and mentos; you just know it's not going to turn out well. This girl had an obsession. It was a _compulsion_- almost like drugs, or alcohol. She couldn't stop. She bit her nails until there was almost no nail left, and the stumps were cracked and sore and bleeding. In this case, the expression 'biting her nails down to the knuckle' wouldn't be an over-exaggeration, haha~ Can you guess where this story is going?"

Battler winced. He already had a vague idea. Moreover, Fran's previous 'story' about the men on the boat had already told him Fran didn't have any cheerful, light-hearted tales in her usual repertoire.

"Yes. Eventually she bit off her own thumb. Cut it right off- the whole thing. Just like you'd bite your fingernails... I believe she tried to hide the injury for a while. She didn't want her mother to scold her, or create a fuss about nothing- after all, it didn't hurt. But the open sore didn't heal properly, and then it got infected..."

Fran's voice was very calm- very matter of fact. Still, Battler winced.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Fran sympathized. "But if you don't know your limits, you'll end up doing stupid things. No 'normal' person would even consider biting off their thumb, would they? But if you don't have those pain receptors telling you when enough is enough and you're damaging your body, you'll often find you just can't stop. You'll end up injuring yourself. You could even die. All because... you didn't know when to end.. Or maybe you never even realized you should have done. Because... You never had the power to control yourself.

"It might sound funny to some people, but it's really quite sad..."

"A-ah..."

Now that Fran had elaborated on her story about 'pain', Battler was beginning to see what she was implying.

She may have been talking about the poor girl who bit off her thumb, but that wasn't all. The story was an allegory. A clever one.

She was talking about herself.

_You don't know when to stop._

_You never had the power to control yourself._

Battler wasn't sure, but he felt... that this was Fran's manner of an apology.

She was apologizing for what she'd done.

Not just to Beato, but to his family.

The girl who bit off her thumb had been born without pain receptors. And, like her, Fran had been born without the ability to question her actions. All she could do was save people.

And she had no way of knowing whether she'd gone too far.

_You'll end up doing 'stupid' things._

But... maybe, in this instance, Fran _had _realized she'd gone too far.

Battler didn't know what had affected her conscience.

Maybe it was Beatrice's final words.

Maybe it was Mammon's speech.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had been his own tears and rage and outright _misery_ at what she'd done.

But... she _had_ learnt.

Maybe Fran wasn't the complete monster Battler thought.

But, in the end, it didn't matter.

Her realization was too little, too late.

And Battler knew she'd never be able to change.

This didn't alter what she'd done.

"Haha..." Fran laughed sheepishly, ducking her head. Battler thought she was blushing, just slightly. "Please forgive me. I enjoy talking about things like this a little too much, but not everybody shares my interests. I don't want to bore you! Besides... I'm sure you're sick of talking to me now. I think I've outstayed my welcome."

Battler didn't argue with that. Mainly because it was true.

"...Alright then!" In an instant, like flipping on a switch, Fran's melancholy expression from earlier morphed into a bright smile. Her fingers entwined around Adorea's, and she began to tug on her hand. "I'll be going now. But don't worry! You don't need to accompany me- I can show myself out! And I promise I won't bother you anymore. Unless you _want_ me to bother you, of course. It was... quite nice talking to you. And the tea here is really tasty. I'm jealous! I wonder if I could mentally condition myself to make tea half as good as this~ You better give Beato's butler my compliments when he recovers, okay? Haha!~"

And, with those cheerful parting words, Fran and Adorea dissolved into butterflies...

And disappeared.

Battler had been sure, once Fran disappeared, he'd feel better. Like a weight lifting from his shoulders.

But, strangely enough... that didn't happen.

He just felt hollow.

Empty.

And he couldn't help but pity that short, stitched-together, oblivious young girl...

Who'd been such a monster.

And maybe she realized that- but didn't know how to change.

At least when Fran had been there, Battler had somebody to talk to. Somebody to direct his anger towards. Because, when Fran wasn't there, who could he blame for this catastrophe but himself?

Feeling tired and lethargic, as though all his willpower and energy had been sapped from him, Battler sank down onto the floor next to Beatrice.

Beatrice looked so peaceful she could have been sleeping- save for the mess of blood pooling in her eyes, dribbling out her mouth. Wincing slightly, Battler reached forwards, and slowly brushed the blood away from Beatrice's face with his sleeve.

"Beato..." Battler muttered to her- though it was obvious she couldn't hear him. "Beato. You better not forget your promise. You better come back. Because only _I _can kill you. That's my job... So... Don't forget it."

Beatrice didn't reply.

Battler didn't expect her to.

Without knowing why, Battler reached forwards. With trembling fingers, his fingertips gently brushed Beatrice's eyelids, and closed them for her.

There...

With her slightly parted mouth, closed eyes and peaceful expression, she really_ could_ have been sleeping.

Without giving it much thought, the 'romantic' in Battler's brain- the side of him which had, so gallantly, proposed to Shannon six years ago (urgh... looking back on it, that had been _really_ embarrassing. He'd likened himself to a 'prince', and had offered to charge to Shannon's rescue on a white steed... No wonder Jessica couldn't take him seriously anymore)- came up with a rather fitting comparison for Beatrice at that moment.

She looked... just like Sleeping Beauty.

Wasn't that a story from a book of fairytales Maria used to have? Battler vaguely recalled George saying something about how much Maria used to love fairy stories, before the idea of witches completely overtook her mind instead- just like the thorns that grew around the princess' castle.

But 'Beauty' didn't seem like a fitting title for Beatrice.

If she'd have known the thoughts running around in Battler's mind, she would have laughed at him.

"I guess I'll just have to call you Sleeping Blondie, then," said Battler, smirking slightly. "Or... Maybe 'Beato' is the best name for you, regardless of the circumstances. Ahaha..."

Battler didn't know how long he sat there.

He didn't cry.

He didn't think he could.

Instead, he continued to wait, staring at Beatrice's face for a miracle he knew wouldn't- _couldn't_- happen.

And, ever so slowly, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

"My, my. You two look rather cute when you're lying together like that."

"H-huh?"

Battler sat up quickly, as though he'd been stung by a jellyfish. The sleep-induced haze impeding on the fringes of his vision slowly dissipated, like fog drifting away when the sun shone. What had once been a blur before his eyes formed into an image of a gently smiling face, sleepy, half closed eyes, long, lavender hair and ruffles and lace. A _lot _of ruffles and lace.

"V-virgilia?"

Virgilia nodded her head and smiled.

Battler would have hastened to stand, had Virgilia not been knelt on the floor beside him. Somehow, if Virgilia was sat down... That meant Battler could remain sitting, too. He wasn't sure of the logic behind that, but it seemed fitting. Virgilia was the mature, responsible type- the polar opposite of Beatrice. If she deemed something as 'acceptable', then Battler was going to agree with her judgment.

At any rate, he didn't think his feet would support him if he did try to stand.

Virgilia's long, ruffled skirts were spread out across the floor in a very neat, orderly manner. Even sat upon floor, her hands in her lap, head slightly bent, Virgilia looked very graceful and elegant.

_She's probably getting her dress all dusty, though. Ihihi._

"It's a shame, isn't it..." said Virgilia softly.

"W-what is?"

It was then that Battler noticed Virgilia was looking at Beatrice. Beatrice's body was still sprawled across the floor. Unlike the corpses of her furniture, Beatrice's body had not solidified or turned into crystal. The blood Battler hadn't managed to wipe away on her face had dried into a crust, and turned dark black from bright red. Her skin was so pale her delicate, light blue veins were visible in her neck. It seemed strange that such a grandiose, powerful witch was now lying on her back like a discarded doll, her eyes closed in a gruesome parody of sleep.

"This poor child really does get herself into some horrible situations," said Virgilia, shaking her head. Her words were slightly condescending- it sounded like she was admonishing Beatrice, although her former student couldn't hear her. Despite this, there was something warm about Virgilia's voice, which made her sound more disappointed than angry.

In fact, Battler couldn't recall ever hearing Virgilia raise her voice. She was so polite and soft-spoken, it was almost impossible believing she was Beatrice's teacher.

...Then, the image of Virgilia's face after Beatrice's plot had been revealed leapt to Battler's mind.

One of her eyes had been open too wide, the other had been half-closed, and she'd been grinning in a psychotic manner. It had been the perfect mirror image of Beatrice's expression- except _worse_, because Virgilia usually looked so refined. Comparing those two Virgilias was like comparing a docile kitten to a vicious lion.

Battler had always wondered where Beatrice had got her awful expressions from, and he supposed she must have picked them up from her former teacher.

Virgila was probably... a lot scarier than Battler knew.

Even so, he didn't push her away, or tell her to leave.

Because she was probably the only person who could help.

And, even if she couldn't, she was another person Battler could talk to.

He didn't much want to be alone in the meta world.

"I did try to make her reconsider," said Virgilia, sighing. She sounded like a upset parent whose teenage daughter had gone to a party and stayed out past her curfew. "I told her no good would come of her plan. I am always willing to help Beato- unless I believe she's being incredibly thick-headed. But... Well. She's like that most of the time."

"Aha... Yeah," Battler agreed. "I think maybe she's too old to follow your instructions now."

"That may be. And that's rather sad," Virgilia agreed. "I missed it when she was an adorable little child, and she used to look up to me so adoringly."

"I can't imagine Beato looking at _anybody _'adoringly', unless somebody slipped something in her tea."

"Haha~ I might have to ask Ronove to do that at some point. It would... fun."

"You have a twisted idea of fun."

"Well, Beatrice had to inherit her disagreeable personality from somewhere, didn't she?" Virgilia asked. "I just happen to hide it rather better than her."

"...So, Virgilia. You knew about Beato's plan?" Battler asked. "You know why she did this?"

"Oh- I know. This poor child isn't very accomplished at hiding her feelings."

"Then... can you explain it all to me? Because I'm a little in the dark about it..."

Virgilia smiled softly, but shook her head. "I could. But that would be callous and cruel of me. If Beato wants to give you her reasoning, then she shall do so herself. It is not in my place to make her decisions for her- not anymore... As I have just learnt from Beato's defiance. Although, look where that got her. Ahaha."

Battler blinked at Virgilia, hardly daring to believe somebody would help him; especially this strange, mysterious woman who'd posed as his ally, but then stabbed him in the back.

Well. Virgilia _was_ a witch; Battler had been a fool for expecting anything else.

And the advice she had given him about the Schrödinger's Cat problem _had_ been quite useful.

The sight of Beatrice, lying there, motionless, like a fairytale princess, was truly distressing. Beatrice was never 'elegant', or 'graceful', or even remotely 'charming'. She wasn't a _princess._

She truly _was_ the wicked witch- the Golden Witch- through and through.

Being so doll-like, beautiful and- above all- **silent** in death didn't suit her.

She should have been cackling, threatening Battler, beating him over the head with her pipe- _anything._

Anything would have been better than silence.

"Y-you'll help her? You'll really help her?" Battler asked, not caring how desperate he sounded. How needy.

"Of course," Virgilia dipped her head in a small nod. "If not to resolve your own miserable feelings- which I do sympathize with, Ushiromiya Battler, believe it or not- then to help my poor little apprentice. No matter what I said to her before this sad state of affairs... I really cannot afford to leave her like this, in this pitiful state. Haha- I must be so easy to read. I'm sure Beato knew I would come back, even when I scolded her. What a troublesome child, trying to manipulate my feelings."

"You might think you're easy to read, Virgilia, but you really fooled me back then in the third game."

"Thank you."

"I don't think it was a compliment."

"I'll take it as one, though. You see... It's all a matter of perspective."

Then, with another small smile, Virgilia knelt over to Beatrice, and reached down to take her former apprentice's fingers between her own.

"Come... Try to remember what form you had. I'm sure it was very beautiful- so please, try and remember." Virgilia's voice was forceful, but not overly so. There was still a soft, airy quality to it. She could have been chanting the heart sutra or singing a lullaby.

What with being so mild-mannered and sweet tempered, coupled with her refined manners and her movements that would have turned a ballerina's face green with envy, Virgilia really was the picture of a perfect lady. It was strange, then, how little Beatrice resembled her, considering she was her student.

Then again... maybe the real Beatrice was more like Virgilia than she let on.

The arrogant, strong, abusive Beatrice was her game board personality- it was a role assigned to her, being the 'wicked witch'. But in reality, Beatrice... wasn't really like that.

At least, Battler didn't believe she was.

Although, there was something very odd about Beatrice being a shy, stuttering, embarrassed blob of pure, concentrated adorable, too- which was another side of her she had shown, on rare occasions.

"Come on, Beato, Try to remember," Virgilia intoned. "I'm still exceedingly irritated with you. You disobeyed my wishes, and it turned into an unpleasant situation like this... Come on. Try to remember. I need to have a stern word with you."

As Virgilia spoke a single, golden butterfly fluttered itself into a shimmering, tenuous existence. It was quite different from Beatrice's usual, overly theatrical way of doing things, with thousands of golden butterflies appearing for even the simplest of things, like summoning her pipe or getting herself a cup of tea.

The single, solitary butterfly slowly fluttered downstairs, to alight atop of Beatrice's chest- the hollow spot where her heart would have been.

"A-ah..."

And then, ever so slowly, Beatrice's chest began to rise and all.

She inhaled heavily, suddenly, as though she'd been alive the whole time- as though she'd merely been holding her breath.

Then, ever so slowly, her eyelids flickered open.

She looked about her surroundings with some surprise, her eyes darting about, her mouth pulling into a small frown.

"Oh... It's you, teacher. What are you doing here?"

"I thought you needed my help.

"Haha... What a joke," Beatrice sniggered, her expression curling up into something quite unladylike. "I knew you'd come crawling back."

And then- "A-ah..." She winced, in apparent pain.

"You know, Beato, I haven't had any dealings with Miss Adorea directly. However, I can make an educated guess that having your internal organs forcefully removed via your mouth would be excruciatingly painful," said Virgilia pleasantly, as though she were discussing the weather.

Battler understood that, somehow, this was Virgilia punishing Beatrice for her impudent comment.

"I-I know that! You don't need to lecture me about it, teacher! H-humph!"

And, even though her voice was shaking slightly, Beatrice turned her head away and stuck her nose up in the air. It was obvious she was in some pain, but she folded her arms all the same, and tried to look unaffected.

Beatrice... was acting just a stubborn little girl.

And, somehow, it was strangely... cute.

Battler tried to suppress his laughter- he really did. But he couldn't help himself.

"H-hey!" Beatrice's cheeks flushed, ever so slightly, as she turned to glare at Battler. She fixed him with a gaze that was even more acidic than the sourest of sour apples. "What's so funny, Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler?"

"A-aha... I'm sorry..." Battler apologized- though it hardly sounded sincere, as he couldn't quite stop his laughter. "Ihihi... You just... look so embarrassed and unlike your usual self. It's... sweet. And... I'm glad you're alright."

Then, grinning, he reached forwards and began to roughly rub Beatrice's head.

Beatrice glowered, her eyes almost red with rage, as she pushed him away.

"H-hey! Remember who you're talking to! You shouldn't treat a lady like that, Battler!"

"A lady? Where?" Battler asked, looking around. "The only 'lady' I see here is Virgilia."

"Fufu~" Virgilia laughed quietly, placing one hand over her mouth. "Please don't tease this troublesome child, Battler. She gets flustered very easily."

"Ihihihi! So she's the shy, blushing type deep down?" Battler asked. He couldn't resist poking fun at Beatrice- not when he was so... incredibly, unabashedly, and yet improperly happy that she- his _enemy_- was alive. The light pink flush on her face was actually quite cute... "I'm sorry, Beato, I didn't know! I'll be nicer to you next time, alright? Don't cry."

"Despite her tough persona, she is remarkably adorable deep down," Virgilia agreed.

"It's a shame she tries so hard to be as prickly and unapproachable as possible."

"I'd call her your typical tsundere."

"Ihihi! Really? That's a good one!"

Beatrice's eyes narrowed into little more than slits. Within seconds- no, more like _nano_seconds- she'd reached forwards and grabbed hold of Battler's tie, yanking on it so hard she nearly decapitated him. Glaring knives, daggers, and various other pointed objects at Battler, she pressed her face so close against his their noses almost brushed.

"Do not insult me like that again, Ushiromiya Battler! And you won't apply terms like that to me if you know what's good for you! _You _should try going through what I went through, and see if you think it's oh-so funny and hilarious then!"

"Ahaha..." Battler shook his head, his cruel smile slipping slightly. For a few moments there, it had been like he was with Jessica, poking fun at her- but he always forgot the one crucial thing. Jessica _always_ beat him. And Beatrice was the same. "I-I'm sorry, Beato... I forgot myself for a few moments."

"I think you should be wary, Battler," said Virgilia pleasantly. "I believe Beato has thought up a fun, interesting, new torture method for you in the next game now."

"U-urgh... Is that so..." Battler's face went pale.

"Yep!" Beatrice declared, popping the 'p' as though it were a bubblegum bubble. With a cheerful smile she released her grip on Battler's tie, pushing him away so forcefully he very nearly fell over (luckily, Virgilia caught him). "I have lots of interesting new torture methods for the fourth game planned out, all thanks to Madaraki Fran! She really was a very useful girl! Gyahahaha!"

"H-ha... Well.." Battler began to massage his neck with one hand. Beatrice had been holding onto his tie he could now identify with people who'd been hung in the past. "It's nice to see you back in high spirits."

"Yes," Virgilia agreed. "You go to such great pains to smirk and laugh cruelly, it's strange when you slip up during your elaborate act- even for a few seconds."

"Who says this has anything to do with 'forgetting an act'?" Beatrice asked, rolling her eyes. "I'm like this allll the time. You should know, teacher. Or is your memory getting bad with old age? Gyahaha!"

"You'll always be a troublesome child. And very disrespectful, too. I see time hasn't changed your atrocious manners."

"I don't think I'd have you any other way, though, Beato," said Battler. He couldn't help his smile- and he hoped his face didn't look too stupid, or Beatrice would surely mock him. "I'd be scared for my life if you suddenly became all cute and considerate."

"Hey!" Beatrice said, borrowing Battler's trademark, over the top accusatory pointing pose for a few seconds. Her finger hovered inches away from Battler's eye, her long fingernail nearly piercing his optic nerves. "Don't start talking to me like that- like we're _friends_. We're enemies, remember? **En**-_e_-mies." And, with every syllable of the word, she prodded Battler's nose. "You better take the fourth game seriously, and don't go easy on me because of my 'oh so brave and noble' sacrifice. Or I'll be _really _disappointed. And then I really _might _be tempted to utilize one of Madaraki Fran's interesting methods of 'saving' people on you, as opposed to outright killing you."

Battler didn't flinch as Beatrice admonished him. Instead, he grabbed hold of her hand, and pulled her closer to him, in much the same manner she'd done to him with his tie.

Instantly, her iron-clad façade slipped, just a little.

"B-battler?"

"I'm just returning the favor," was Battler's cool reply, as he lent his face closer to Beatrice's one. "And I promise I'll take the fourth game seriously. I already said. I'll defeat you no matter what. And I'll do it with twice as much energy than before! I'm going to prove _I'm _the only one who can defeat you- not Fran!"

"Ha." Beatrice laughed scathingly. "As if she could. I'm stronger than that."

"I know you are."

Battler's voice was so serious it caught him off-guard, too.

"Ah..." Beatrice sighed softly, pulling herself free from Battler's grip. "I'm just glad we're having this fourth game at all. I was sure, at the end of the third, you'd given up. You just looked so _pathetic_- beating you up like that would've been no fun at all. Absolutely no fun."

"Is that why... you let Fran intervene, Beato?" Battler asked, trying to make sense of the strange scenario. "To force me back into fighting?"

Beatrice paused, biting her lower lip for a few seconds- before she nodded.

"Something like that."

"'Something like that'?" Battler repeated. "That... sounds a little vague. I'd have thought you'd take the destruction of your furniture more seriously than that..."

"...I was trying to make you hate me," Beatrice admitted, in a sudden, almost uncharacteristically truthful declaration. "I was sure, after what Fran did to your family... You'd despise me. And you'd want to hurt me even more. Then we could start the fourth game as we began the second and third, throwing whatever we had at each other. I didn't expect... _this_. Haha. It's funny." Beatrice smirked. "You're so boringly predictable when it comes to your reasoning skills- always clutching your head and wailing 'I don't understand! It's useless! It's all useless!' But... Fufufu. Despite that, you can be a pretty interesting person sometimes."

"Well, of course. I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

"I suppose that _is _why you're my opponent. Because you... amuse me. A little. It'd be a shame if the third game truly broke you."

"Ahaha. _Me_?" Battler gave a laugh filled with fake bravado. He knew how close he'd come to giving up there- and if Beatrice hadn't intervened, he wasn't sure if he would lost. But he had to act tough. "Never. I'd never give up! I was just taking a breather."

"Are you back to your old self now, though? Ridiculous hand gestures and all?" Virgilia asked. "I must say, I quite missed them. And your strange theories. I look forward to hearing more of them."

"Heyy." Battler glared at Virgilia, who was still smiling. "You just said something pretty cruel quite easily. That hurts, you know."

If Beatrice had said something like that, Battler probably would have flicked her in the forehead. However, when it was the serene, ladylike Virgilia saying such horrible things, with a very non-indicative pleasant smile on her face, Battler found he couldn't attack her. It would have been... unseemly, somehow.

Virgilia had one weapon Beatrice definitely didn't. The ability to seem like a proper, respectful lady.

"Well. I_ am_ a witch," was Virgilia's reply.

"I'm aware of that. I know that only too well." Battler shook his head. "Yeah... I now know... It's no good... It's no good at all..." He stabbed his finger in Virgilia's direction- then Beatrice's. "I'll never forgive you witches. Never! You've screwed up my life way too much! So I'll start the fourth game and wipe you from existence once and for all!"

"Interesting! How fun!~" Beatrice cackled. "I like it. I like it, Ushiromiya Battler. It's good you got your fighting spirit back!"

"...She won't admit to it, but she was very worried about you," said Virgilia.

At this off-hand comment, Beatrice's insane expression fractured, ever so slightly, like a breaking mirror. Her brows raised, and her eyes widened, every so slightly, whilst her pupils dilated somewhat.

"T-teacher! Don't say things like that!"

"But it's true," said Virgilia. "That's why you engaged in such a risky plan, isn't it, Beato? You couldn't let Battler give up like that... So you did something very cruel. You gave him false hope that his family could be spared- and then took it away. It was a huge gamble. You could have completely destroyed Battler- or sparked his passion again and forced him to continue. I'm sure, if things had turned out the other way... ... Well." Virgilia laughed lightly. "Let's not dwell on that, shall we? But I'm sure you would have been devastated, too, Beato."

"W-well, you know what they say," said Beatrice, forcing a grin. "You have to risk big to win big! That's what magic's all about! Gyahaha!"

"So... You consider cheering me up, in essence, a 'big win'?" Battler smiled. "I feel so important."

"It's not like that," Beatrice snapped, lightly thumping her fist against Battler's head. "It's not like that at all! You should hate me! You should..."

"Well. I'm not... happy... that you did that to my family. That you _let _Fran do that to my family." Battler winced as he recalled the memory of his family and their servants- all sewn together until their identities as separate people had all but vanished. Just three writhing messes of limbs and pains, all shouting- those that _could_ shout, at any rate- as they were doomed to die, slowly, painfully... Battler shuddered.

"I won't... forgive you for that," he continued. He was shaking. "But... That wasn't an act by the 'real' Beato, was it?"

"Everything you see me do is an action carried out by the 'real Beatrice', Battler," said Beatrice coldly. She gave a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. "Like it or not."

"But I don't truly believe you're a bad person!" Battler continued, her voice raising in volume as he got more enthusiastic. "You're not! I don't care what you say, or what you pretend to be. Deep inside, I'm sure the real Beato... is... not a bad person."

"So says the person who's dedicated himself to killing me and erasing my existence from the world," said Beatrice scathingly, rolling her eyes. "This is quite the conundrum, isn't it, Battler? Why are you so desperate to believe I'm a 'good person'? I was just lying to you in the last game, you know. It was a strategy. You must be some new kind of stupid if you still believe in it. Or maybe I'm just _that _good an actress~"

"You must be. I was the one who taught you, after all," said Virgilia.

"No. That's no good. That's no good at all," said Battler. "It would be easier if I could hate you! But by denouncing you as a completely evil person, cruel through and through, I'd be ignoring the truth! Because that's not the truth, is it? Maybe... that kind, helpful Beato from the previous game wasn't as much of a lie as you claim. And it's my job to uncover the 'truth'- not just about these, games but about my opponent, too! I'll find the culprit. And I'll also find out who you really are. I'd be a failure if I didn't try. I want to know your real personality. And your motives. And.. everything."

"Ha... Hahahaha. You sound like a stalker with a crush. Gyahaha! It'd be fun breaking your heart too~ Fufufu~" Beatrice laughed, shaking her head. "You are impossible, Ushiromiya Battler. You're unwilling to believe the real culprit is a witch or a servant _or_ a member of your family. And now you're unwilling to believe your enemy- the one who shows you these gruesome murders- is a 'bad person'! How funny!"

"Maybe I just like making things difficult for myself," said Battler, reaching forwards to pat Beato on the head again. "Don't worry. That just makes things more interesting, doesn't it?"

"Interesting..." Beatrice didn't move to throw him away, as she had done the previous time. Instead, she sat there, her face a very delicate pink. "I suppose... it does... A game without any complications would be boring."

"Trust me, you're _far_ from boring, Beato. You're the most confusing person I've met. But... you're another mystery I'm going to solve."

* * *

"So." Battler was sat across from Beatrice and Virgilia, in his usual chair. It felt strange being seated there after so long. It was almost as if no time had passed and nothing had changed- but, in reality, _everything_ was different. Even if that sounded a tad melodramatic. "We're going to begin the fourth game? What about... the others?"

And by that, he meant his family.

The stakes.

Even Ronove.

Virgilia hadn't revived them yet- and Battler wasn't sure if she could. As Virgilia no longer held the title of 'Beatrice', it seemed her magic was somewhat weaker than the real Beato's. Virgilia didn't even have her own real name; the title 'Virgilia' had been one she'd picked herself, with no real power tied to it.

"Ah... If this relates to your poor relatives... I already took care of matters," said Virgilia, inclining her head.

"Took care of...?"

Despite Virgilia's calm, peaceful tones, Battler got the feeling she was implying something rather violent and horrific. Battler knew what she was talking about- he knew perfectly.

But... he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"They're dead," Virgilia affirmed. She said it without even blinking, as though it was nothing. "It was... quite horrible. I reversed the effects of Miss Fran's operation, and Miss Eva's memories pertaining to it." She laughed softly, without humor. It seemed... even Virgilia, despite her unaffected countenance, had been shocked by what she'd seen. "It was inevitable. The Madaraki Fran you saw had been taken from a fragment following the events of Beato's third game, in which Ushiromiya Eva was the only survivor on Rokkenjima. _**Not**_ from a fragment where Ushiromiya Eva was found sewn together with the rest of her cousins. Simply leaving things as they were would have created the time paradox, and would have had drastic impacts on the third game fragment.

"I'm sure... that Miss Fran herself realized this. Or, at the very least, I expect Beato told her about the situation."

Beatrice nodded in affirmation.

No longer was Beatrice blushing, or smiling, or joking in an almost playful manner with Battler. She had truly reverted to the role of his 'enemy'- which was fitting, but Battler knew that wasn't the only side of Beatrice there was.

She was just playing another role.

So, in the end... Fran had known her operation would come to nothing. She'd known all her patients would die anyway. Maybe that had stimulated some of Fran's apparent disinterest in the quality of her patient's lives following their operation, and had driven Fran to continuously demand she be repaid, in full. Because she knew the operation was for nothing.

But... even so, despite that, she'd still tried.

She hadn't given up.

Maybe that was because she'd been promised payment, but Battler got the feeling Fran would have been willing to help anyway. Because, like the girl with no pain receptors in her hands, Fran didn't know when to stop.

She had to save everybody.

Even if they were beyond saving.

And now... all the hard work had been undone.

Somehow, Battler found that... a little sad.

She'd tried so hard for nothing.

He hadn't even thanked her.

But, then again, why should he have done? Fran had turned his family members and the servants- the people he _cared_ about- into hideous monsters. She'd done it with no trace of regret (because she didn't believe she'd done anything _to _regret). She'd dragged them back up from their graves and forced life into people who should have died.

Now they were dead all over again, as they should have been.

As though Fran had never intervened or tried to 'save' them at all.

Battler supposed he should feel... happy.

Was it fitting to feel 'happy' when his parents and friends were dead?

But he didn't know what to feel.

"Battler."

Battler looked up. Beatrice's stern, authoritarian voice had drawn him out of his trance.

For some reason, Beatrice looked angry. Truly angry. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips were pulled into a thin line.

"What is it, Beato...?"

"I don't know what you're feeling, but I assure you what Virgilia did is for the best. They were never meant to survive- their existence in the state Fran left them in would have painful to the point where death would have been kinder. You said so yourself. You nearly _murdered _Fran because of it. And I want you to know you were right. I agree with you." Beatrice was speaking so severely, using that same tone Virgilia adopted around Beatrice herself, that Battler felt like he was being scolded.

"A-ah... Well... I know it was the right thing to do!" Battler said, trying to defend himself. "I would have killed them if I could! I... I would have done..."

(_"M-mama... Help me, Mama!" Maria cried, screaming, extending her fingers, reaching out- but Rosa couldn't answer, and Jessica was crying too, crying for her parents, or her cousins, or Kanon, and Shannon was wearing her wedding ring and now she truly _was_ joined to George in that they'd never be able to escape, ever...)_

Battler shuddered at the memory. He placed his hand on his temple, shaking his head, trying to ward off the oncoming headache.

"I would have killed them... I-I'm glad it got resolved like this. But it seems a little... ..."

"Cruel towards Miss Madaraki?" Virgilia supplied.

Batlter nodded. "Yeah. I-I mean... She was wrong, I admit that. She hurt people. She hurt them more than Beato ever did."

"But in her mind, in her own little world, she was right. She was saving people. So, to that end... she never intended to hurt anyone," Virgilia finished. She smiled gently. "I understand your feelings."

"I don't." Beatrice's voice was cold and cutting, as unfeeling as a steel blade, and just as piercing. "I understand _Fran's _plight- I understand that well enough. She wasn't created with the intelligence to discern right from wrong, or even question her own morals. But I cannot, and refuse to, sympathize with _you _for being an idiot, Battler. I can't suffer fools."

"W-what?" Battler asked. "W-why are you attacking me?"

"Because you _do _have the power to think for yourself! You, regardless of how it appears to me when we play our games, have a brain! There are some times in life when you should suck it up and accept you'll NEVER be able to make a difference- no matter how much you try to help, it will only make a matter worse! When things are dead, you should just accept they're dead! It's alright for us witches, who see death as nothing more than flipping a coin, or reversing a side of the chessboard... But for humans- even a 'human' like Fran, whose medical expertise was clearly above an average perosn's- you can't do that. By refusing to let go of the dead, you'll hurt yourself more! By trying to revive them, you'll start to hurt them, too. Fran couldn't think for herself, so she couldn't hope to realize this! But _you_ can. And I hope you have enough sense to know- unlike that stupid old man who talks so longingly to my portrait every day- that you should just let the dead lie. Don't torture yourself with impossibilities."

Beatrice paused. Battler thought that was it- she was finished.

But he was wrong.

She'd merely paused for breath.

"You know what I think, Ushiromiya Battler? Do you want my opinion on the matter? Well... I think... Maybe there's a _reason _it's naturally impossible to resurrect people. Because it shouldn't be done. Throughout these games you've tried so hard, laboring under the misapprehension you can maybe save your relatives if you succeed! What if you _can't_? What if I said, no matter what scenario I show you, they WILL die and people WILL be hurt? That is the truth- the one truth- the real bitter pill to swallow- and until you understand how helpless it is to revive the dead, and how the dead wish they'd never been revived in the first place, you'll never understand me. Or the true nature of these games."

As Beatrice spoke her voice eventually became louder, more dangerous, and her fingers clenched into fists at her armrest.

Battler had never seen Beatrice looking so angry.

So impassioned.

Was this... relevant to her, somehow?

Well, of course it was, if she felt so strongly about it. People didn't become so involved in subjects that were completely unrelated to them.

Battler remembered that memory of the human Beatrice in Kuwadorian he'd been shown in the third game. She'd been alive once, and she'd been human. Once upon a time there had been a 'human' Beatrice- though Battler didn't believe that human had been a witch beforehand. That was just an element of fantasy; a fantastic spin taken on a more humble story.

That Beatrice had died.

And, since then, Kinzo had been half-mad (not that he'd been fully sane before) in his attempts to get her back, even turning to dark magic to resurrect her.

_"Once things are dead, you shouldn't bring them back."_

Was Beatrice talking about herself?

Was that her opinion of... herself?

Or maybe Beatrice didn't even know who she was.

Once Beatrice had finished talking her face was flushed red and her eyes were narrowed. She was panting heavily, as though she'd just run a race.

And Battler realized just how much Beatrice had given away by that speech. And just how much she was willing him to understand.

_"Uncover the truth. And then try and kill me. Let's see if you can..."_

It felt like that was what she'd been saying all along.

"Please do not mind this child, Battler," said Virgilia gently. "She's... been through an awful lot. And this particular incident with Miss Madaraki may have hit a little too close to home for her to remain objective. But that is merely her opinion of the matter."

"N-no..." Battler said. "It's okay. I understand what Beato's saying."

"Do you? Do you really?" Beatrice asked, her eyes narrowed, her voice disbelieving. "That'll be a first. You seen to completely disregard all else I say. Do you want me to clap?"

"Ha! You can say that all you like, but you know I'm not stupid, Beato. You said it yourself."

"Well... You're not a _complete_ imbecile, I'll give you that. But you're not far off. Your IQ is so pitiful I fear the finer points of your character are negligible."

"And you really _**are**_ a complete bitch most of the time, but I'm willing to look past that."

"I wish you wouldn't. I wish you'd just..." Beatrice scowled. "You're too _nice, _Ushiromiya Battler! That was why I was able to catch you out so easily in the last game! And that's why you're being a _moron_ and siding with that poor, pitiable girl! But, whilst I _may_ pity her, for not having a single thought that is really hers in her empty head, I could never extend _you_ the same courtesy! It's fleeting, but you DO have common sense, don't you?"

"I understand what you were saying." Battler's voice was soft; it almost came out as a hiss. "I understand, Beato. And I promise, at the end of this fourth game, I'll try to see through your lies to the truth. I'll do it! And then..." He got to his feet, walked over to Beatrice and lent down so he was at her eye level, his fingers taking her shoulders roughly. "I'll kill you. I promise I will. And then... I'll let you rest in peace. I won't try to bring you back. Not anymore. If you're _really _suicidal, that is."

"It's not suicide. It's just... returning something to its original state." Beatrice grinned an almost manic grin- but it seemed desperate, too. "I'm trying to remember... I'm trying to remember what form I used to have... Hahaha... Gyahahahaha!"

"Well, you better not give in either," said Battler, narrowing his eyes. "I'd never forgive you if you gave up!"

"Of course not..." Beatrice smiled- a more tender smile than before, and a complete turnaround from that manic laughter it was enough to almost give Battler whiplash. "I would never accept an ending like that, either. I'll fight to the end."

"And me too."

"In that case..." Beatrice smirked. She placed a palm across Battler's face and, forcefully, pushed him away. His legs hit the back of the table and he fell, with a pained gasp, onto the floor.

"H-hey!" Battler shouted, glaring at her. "W-what was that for?"

"I'm knocking some sense back into you before the fourth game!" Beatrice replied. "We are enemies, remember, regardless of our 'true' feelings for each other- whatever they may be! And make sure you don't forget it. Ronove!"

And, in a burst of golden butterflies- as though nothing was wrong, and he'd never been murdered by Adorea at all- Beatrice's butler appeared.

He was smiling.

"Greetings, Milady. Virgilia. And, of course, Battler, too," said Ronove, bowing politely. "May I inquire as to why Battler is on the floor, Milady? What did you do? You should keep your temper in check, you know. Pu ku ku~"

"I like how you make assumptions I'm the one that did this," said Beatrice, rolling her eyes.

"In most cases, you are the reason behind Battler's misfortunes."

"Whatever~" Beatrice moaned. "I'm just having some fuuunnn~ Don't speak to me so impudently after I ever-so-kindly took the pains to revive you!"

"I appreciate it, Milady."

"Hahaha~" Beatrice cackled. "I _was_ thinking about swapping you for a goat butler or some such thing, but they're not as aesthetically pleasing, so I had to fall back on you in the end! Don't piss me off again, though, or I'll think twice before I come to your rescue!"

"Of course, Milady. Pu ku ku~"

"And now the stage is set! All the pieces are in place! Let's begin!" sat Beatrice, clicking her fingers. "Ronove, I believe we will have a guest joining us for this game. I hear she's an ally of Lady Bernkastel, and she'll be opposing me alongside Battler. Please show her in and offer her some tea."

"Certainly." Ronove inclined his head slightly, and then vanished.

"H-huh? What?"

Battler hadn't gotten up from the floor. There was so much going on he wasn't sure he could. Beatrice's erratic mood swings alone, what with her jumping between being rather cute, incredibly angry, and then reverting back to her usual, default self, was enough to fry Battler's brain. The sudden addition of Ronove was confusing, too- hadn't Adorea murdered him? But Battler supposed Beatrice would explain that away with 'magic'.

Were they really going to begin the fourth game so quickly?

And what about the seven stakes...?

"Battler!" Beatrice snapped, her voice commanding. "I hope you're not having second thoughts! For all your fancy words and grandiose speeches before, you're looking a little shell-shocked! Of course we're beginning the fourth game now- we've delayed enough already! I hope you weren't bluffing when you said you'd defeat me! If that's the case, I'll make your eventual demise especially painful and humiliating! Gyahahahaha!"

"I hate to agree with the enemy, but that bitch is right. You look completely pitiful lying on the floor- get up. Don't make me hurt you," said a female voice.

That voice... sounded somewhat familiar.

It inspired strange, almost nostalgic feelings in Battler.

But when he looked up at the newcomer, he was sure he didn't recognize her.

She had red hair that hung about her shoulders. Her bangs were cut sharply, straight across, which emphasized the keenness of her eyes and the severity about her face. There was something odd about her appearance though, which did not tie in with her otherwise 'serious' look. It was the two small, stubby pigtails- tiny bits of hair gathered on either side of her head, held in place with cheap, pink, plastic hair ornaments that looked like they'd been won from an arcade.

Weren't they a little out of place...?

But then, something clicked in Battler's mind, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle sliding into place.

This was the girl who'd rescued him at the end of Beatrice's third game.

And this... was also the girl Mammon had been talking about.

That must have been where the feeling of dull, hazy nostalgia had come from.

This girl was the witch?

She was his new ally?

Battler hadn't even realised he'd spoken aloud until the aloof girl replied.

"No. I'm not a witch. I'm just an ordinary human being," she said, folding her arms. "I'm here to remind you how to fight properly. You've been a little sloppy lately- and it's nothing short of disgraceful. Don't be fooled by your enemy- don't you know how powerful they are?"

Battler wasn't sure his pride was ready for a mental smackdown like that after all he'd been through- but his grit his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and got to his feet.

This girl was nothing. Beatrice hurled far, far crueller insults at him than that.

He wasn't going to give in.

Not this time.

Beatrice had, in essence, given him a second chance, and he wasn't going to let her down.

He wasn't going to lose.

"Alright then, strange girl," said Battler, folding his arms. "Who're you? Don't think I'll be so quick to trust another piece controlled by a witch. For all I know, you could be an enemy in disguise!"

"Hmn..." The red-headed witch(?) frowned. "Maybe... You're not quite as stupid as you look."

"Honestly. Is that the best compliment you can give?"

"I don't give compliments. And, as for my name...?"

She smirked. Just slightly.

"You may call me Gretel."

* * *

**a/n: **OH GEE I WONDER WHO THAT IS.  
-is shot-

Anyway. This is the last chapter of this fic. I'm going to have a short epilogue after, but it /will/ be short in comparison to these chapters. Mainly, it'll tie up some loose ends ^_^

Did you know, when I first started writing about this, I'd completely forgotten Ange even existed? XD I was like 'oh dear, Ange was meant to intervene after episode 3 and knock some sense back into Battler now, wasn't she?' XDD  
That's why writing Umineko canon-compliant fics is trop difficle, pour moi ._. Because in the canon there's always /stuff/ going on, and there aren't any breaks between the games, so it's hard knowing where to fit stuff for fanfiction. Another fun fact- this fic was gonna take place after the 2nd game, as it'd be fitting for Battler to lose the will to fight then, too. However, at that moment, I felt Beato and Battler didn't know each other well enough for this plot to work, and my favourite Umienko charas (well, basically, Ronove and Virgilia) hadn't been introduced at that point.

So, there you go XD

Oh yeah, another interesting(?) fact.  
The original title of this chapter was 'digested', as it fits in with 'swallowed' in the fic title. However, it didn't fit with the 'flow' of the rest of the chapter titles (read it as 'digested', then as 'learnt', and see which sounds better) so I scrapped that idea.  
Do you care? No! Nobody cares!~ XDD

**renahhchen oxoxo**


	8. epilogue

**A Bitter Pill to Swallow**  
Epilogue

'...'

* * *

Ushiromiya Eva's condition had worsened. She was now so frail and weak she looked like a skeleton. The skin around her face was sunken, her cheeks hollow, as though her skin were just a few cells thick, wrapped tightly around her skull like Clingfilm. Her hair was prematurely white, like snow, and her wrinkles had been carved into her face at a premature age.

Well, Fran thought with a sigh, that was just the cold, hard truth about what happened to people who lived miserable lives. After surviving the 'Rokkenjima Witch Mass Murders', or whatever ridiculous, over-the-top, sounds-like-it-came-from-a-shounen-manga title the case had been given, Eva's honorable title as an 'Ushiromiya' had been slandered relentlessly by the press. They were convinced she was the murderer- and even though there was no evidence to point towards that conclusion, save the fact she was the sole survivor on the island, they refused to let go of this notion, even after her name had been officially cleared.

Even after she cried in such a horrible, heart-breaking manner at her family's funeral- especially over George and her husband- they still refused to believe her.

The talk shows had mocked her tears, saying they were 'just as fake as her hair color'.

It was probably the guilt of being the only survivor, mixed with the hateful opinions of the general public, that had ruined Ushiromiya Eva.

From Fran's perspective, Eva had been incredibly lucky. Not only had she solved the mystery of the witch's epitaph, obtained the gold _**and**_ become the head of the family, but she'd also survived a mass murder in a closed circle on a small, contained island. Surely the odds stacked against her had been astronomical.

An angel must have been on her side, to guide her through all that.

Or...

Fran smiled, as she remembered taking tea in the company of the Golden Witch, Beatrice, and her demon servants.

Maybe it hadn't been an 'angel' who 'blessed' her.

More like, a cruel, blonde-haired witch who placed a curse upon her from a fairytale.

Fran had always told Eva, during her medical check-ups (the number of which had been increasing as Eva drew closer and closer to her early grave), that she should be happy. Happy that she had survived- because Fran rarely met people that were so lucky.

...Well, that was something of a lie. Fran _had_ been acquainted with a very lucky convict, who survived a variety of cruel punishments- and then got struck by lightening.

But Eva was different.

Even after all the hardships she'd faced, she still hadn't died. It was amazing she could survive, and continue to do so, even when probability was stacked so highly against her life it seemed impossible Eva could keep her heart beating and oxygen flowing through her lungs.

Her continued survival must have been a 'miracle'.

But Eva had always laughed when Fran said this. Although, it hadn't been a 'laugh'- not really. More like a tired, self-deprecating snort.

Eva didn't want gold.

She didn't want the family headship.

She only wanted her family back.

And... for a few brief seconds, that wish had come true. Fran had already tried to fulfill that wish- to relieve this woman's suffering. And look what had happened then. She'd been even more miserable.

_You should be careful what you wish for. Humans say reckless things all the time- 'I wish X was still alive', or 'I wish I was good at Y', or 'I wish I could make Z have a crush on me', truly believing it'll be for the best, and they'll be happier if their trivial hopes and dreams are granted._

_And in practice it _never_ seems to work out that way, no matter how I try to help._

Short of going back in time and preventing the murders before they occurred, Fran saw very little she could do to cure Eva of her ailment.

Eva's only real medical condition was 'misery'- a misery so severe and acute it was like being tortured every second of the day.

Once upon a time, Fran hadn't understood 'misery' at all. She'd thought it was just another human 'quirk'- another amusing foible she could giggle at over a cup of tea with Okita.

But now, maybe... just maybe... she could sympathize... a little.

The organs she'd taken from Beatrice and her servants had dissolved into dust upon her arrival to the human world, as though they'd never existed at all. And, Fran supposed, they hadn't- not really. The 'metaworld' seemed to exist in a different dimension to the human world, and Fran was sure the two places should never meet. Was that why time froze in the human world and everything turned black and white when the inhabitants of the metaworld descended upon it? Maybe it prevented their bodies from dissolving into horribile piles of foul-smelling sludge, too.

But Fran couldn't stop time, and she hadn't been able to preserve those organs before they'd completely dissolved.

As the organs'- Fran's compensation- turned into grit and sludge inside Adorea's body (Adorea had been taken quite seriously ill after that unpleasant incident, her zippers leaking dark black fluid and her body slowly crumpling in on itself), Fran decided her excursion to the 'metaworld' really had been useless.

She'd tried so hard operating on the Ushiromiyas, knowing both of the future Eva's misery and the present (at that time) Battler's despair.

But, even though she'd succeeded in 'saving them', neither parties had been happy.

They'd treated her as a monster.

And, in the end, all that work had been for nothing, because in the current time frame Eva's relatives were still dead and Eva herself was still unhappy. And all the payment Fran received had been useless- completely useless.

Then again, Fran supposed Beatrice must have known that already.

She'd... truly come away empty-handed.

But... ... maybe that wasn't the case.

Because, as Fran looked down at the dying form of Ushiromiya Eva, pondering how to force life back into her haggard body- life that was already slipping away before her eyes- she paused...

For the first time in her life, she stopped to think.

As a doctor, she had to save everyone. That was her job.

But, as a person...

Well, she wasn't a person- not really. But what would a _person _do?

Ushiromiya Eva's life had been full of nothing but misery. Her relatives had all died. Everybody thought she was the true culprit, despite the fact it was so obvious, even to a girl like Fran, that she wasn't. Ushiromiya Eva simply wasn't capable of committing such a cold-blooded crime in the pursuit of gold and status. Despite her cold exterior, the love she had for her family was real- and Fran understood love.

Fran knew the power of that emotion.

But had she ever experienced it for herself?

_Without love, it cannot be seen._

And maybe, just maybe... thanks to Battler...

She could see.

Just a little.

He'd opened her eyes.

Eva's life could not even be called a 'life'. It was more like one long string of pain and misery, which would culminate- eventually- in her death. Her 'liberation'.

Then she'd be free.

She'd find her family again in the 'golden land'.

And she'd be happy.

If Fran kept her alive- which would have been the _right _thing to do, and the _just _thing, because all human lives were equal and they all deserved to be saved- she knew Eva would only lay there in the hospital bed waiting for death to descend upon her again.

Fran sighed.

She looked down at that tired face, etched with lines of hatred and misery and guilt, that had been building and building over the years- but, as her life slowly slipped away, the tension in her face already seemed to be lifting...

And Fran saw somebody who was desperate to die.

_"I-if you won't kill them, then I'll kill them! They don't deserve to live like this! How could you?"_

Battler's words from earlier rang through her head.

Now... Fran thought she could understand what he meant.

But, Fran reasoned, what would be the point in declining to operate on Miss Eva? She'd be losing out on money, not to mention the prestige that came from forcing more and more life into the notorious Miss Ushiromiya, the 'sole survivor' of the murder mystery. Fran needed money- she _always_ needed money, because science wasn't like magic- and she needed to keep in people's good graces.

Battler was stuck back in the world of 1986, replaying countless renditions of that 'murder mystery' which plagued the present time Eva so horribly.

In this world, Ushiromiya Battler wasn't even alive.

He was dead.

And Battler would never learn the fate of this Ushiromiya Eva, lying in the hospital bed, choking out her last breaths with Fran by her side in 1998.

Even if Fran refused to operate on Eva, Battler would never know.

And Fran's apology would be lost.

And she would end up sacrificing her principles- her one reason for existing in the world at all- for nothing.

So, in the end, wouldn't that make... refusing to operate... ... pointless?

If Fran went against her professor's wishes and let Eva die, she'd no longer have a purpose to _be_. She existed to save people, much like Battler continued to exist to challenge Beatrice. If either of them failed to fulfill their purposes, they'd be unneeded- cast aside like trash.

Fran couldn't allow that to happen.

She had to save people.

She_ wanted _to save people.

What about the people who _did _want her help? What about them?

Just because Ushiromiya Eva would have been happier to die, it didn't mean all humans felt the same. In fact, humans were so vastly strange and complicated, what with their conflicting emotions and personalities, Fran could hardly believe they'd all been gathered into one sole species and given one label as 'human' at all.

Fran really had no choice.

She couldn't change her ways.

Even with 'love', it didn't make any difference. Fran couldn't become something she wasn't- and she certainly couldn't throw away her only reason for being alive. If she stopped helping people, she became defunct.

She existed to save lives.

It didn't matter if it would have been better to let those lives go out.

It didn't matter if she _knew_ she was doing something wrong.

Because she couldn't stop now.

That was the way things were.

That was the way things would always be.

And Ushiromiya Battler would never change that.

Fran sighed.

Picked up her scalpel.

She would save Eva no matter what.

And she would doom her to misery again and again, without batting an eyelid, because she was a good person and she was going to save others- she was going to save everyone.

"Let's commence the operation."

And maybe that was the hardest truth to learn of all.

The knowledge she was helpless against her own personality...

Was just a bitter pill to swallow.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**a/n: **I love Fran. I mean, I /really/ love Fran. Her morals are so warped and twisted, but she believes she's a good person, and she'd rather die than give them up. At least, that's how I see it.  
So, even though she learnt something from Battler- that sometimes, it is kinder to kill somebody in immense pain- she couldn't act upon it in the very end, and she couldn't 'repent' for hurting Battler's family after all.

Anyway. This is the end (omg I actually finished something else! And it's another Umeinko fic XDD) of this fic.  
I will probably write some more Umineko multichap in the future, either for Ronove/Battler or Virgilia/Ronove or Dlanor/Erika/Bern or some more Beato/Battler, like this fic (kinda) was.  
Or maybe I'll cross Umineko over with something weird again XDD

Thank you to everybody who read this fic, I hope you enjoyed it, and had as much fun reading it as I did writing it (and hopefully /more/, because I really hate proof-reading my work XDD)

**~renahhchen xoxoxoxo**


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